And then to the man, “Now, you’re not going to give Gagarin another of those orders, right? Because if you did that, I’d have to hurt you both, a lot,” he said, pointing to the machete. “And neither of us wants that.”
The man shook his head several times.
“If you do that, I’ll split your monkey’s head in two.”
More shakes of the head.
“Excellent. Whenever you’re ready, come in here with me, please.”
With that, and under the steady gaze of the elderly couple, Joanes retreated to the bathroom with the chimpanzee, which hobbled along behind him.
“What’s going on?” asked the professor’s wife.
“I don’t know. I think the kid’s lost it.”
“And is that any surprise?”
The professor didn’t answer. He untied the man as he’d been ordered to do and withdrew a few steps, putting himself in between his wife and the stranger, who got to his feet and looked around, disoriented. He massaged his wrists and felt his head.
“You ought to do what he says,” said the professor.
The man nodded and followed Joanes, his back stooped.
The elderly couple kept their eyes on the entrance to the bathroom. The wind veiled whatever words were being spoken in the dark and almost in whispers inside.
“Did you say anything to the kid?” asked the professor.
“No.”
“What were you two talking about?”
“We weren’t talking about anything.”
“Why did you let him take the machete?”
“What could I do?”
Soon after, Joanes left the bathroom, the chimpanzee still in tow. The elderly couple looked at him expectantly, but he simply walked past them in silence, not even catching their eye. He picked up the flashlight then went into the little room were the professor had gone earlier, and he closed the door.
Joanes switched on the flashlight and put it on the floor. He studied his maimed hand, the empty space where his now severed fingers had been. If he kept it still, he only felt a kind of faint, throbbing pain, as if his arm stretched out many, many feet ahead of him and he were looking at his hands through a telescope. If he tried to move it, it was a whole other story — the pain was lacerating, almost unbearable. The monkey had collapsed on the floor against a wall with his head down.
Not much time had passed when he heard a scream in the other room. The chimpanzee jumped, forcing Joanes to hold the cane firmly.
It was the professor’s wife. The scream only stopped when the last drop of air had left her lungs. Straight afterward, through the sound of the wind, strangled voices and hard thumps could be heard. Then, for a moment, nothing, and the storm suddenly roared doubly loud.
He heard more blows. And then a noise like something falling to the ground. After this, a pause and then another scream, once again coming from the professor’s wife.
Joanes left the cane on the floor; this forced him to relinquish control of the chimpanzee, but he had to take that risk. In any case, in its current state, the monkey didn’t pose much of a threat. He clutched the machete firmly. The door boomed when someone knocked on it from the other side.
“Sir?” said the man, shouting to be heard over the wind.
“All done?” shouted Joanes.
His voice sounded exceptionally loud in the tiny space of the room.
“Yes, sir.”
There was a pause, and then Joanes asked, “Sure?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now I want you to cover them up. Use the blankets on the bed.”
Another pause.
“Is Gagarin all right?” the man wanted to know.
“Do what I tell you!”
A moment later the man was knocking again.
“I’ve done what you asked,” he shouted.
“Now I want you to go into the bathroom, and I don’t want you to move. Once you’re inside, shout so I know you’re there. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“If I see you when I open this door, I’ll kill your monkey. Understood?”
“But you promised me that—”
“I don’t give a shit what I promised you! I see you, I kill it.”
A second later the man said, “OK!”
A few moments passed, and he heard the man calling that he was in the bathroom. His voice sounded far away. Joanes decided it was best to leave the monkey where it was. Then he picked up the flashlight from the floor and took a deep breath. But he still didn’t leave. He stayed there unmoving, his hand on the door handle, allowing himself a few more seconds, making the most of the refuge afforded him by those four walls.
The door to the cabin was open and swinging in the wind. The night and the storm were blasting in. The bed had fallen apart. The mattress was lying on the dirty floor. The bricks that had supported the corner of the frame had fallen over. The bucket where they’d made the fire was tipped on its head, and the cinders were scattered all around. The wind made glowing threads appear in the embers and whipped up the trash.
Joanes moved toward the door. He found the woman lying with her legs on the inside of the cabin and the upper part of her body sprawled across the stoop. The professor was next to the car. The two bodies had each been carefully covered with several blankets. The wind was doing its best to carry away their shrouds. A brick lay in the mud, and the rain was washing away the blood on it.
As he looked down at the soaking lump that was the professor’s body, Joanes didn’t feel any relief. His only thought was that now he wouldn’t have the chance to clear up their unfinished business. The disconcertion he felt at his own response would later transform into a kind of bitterness he’d have to consciously reflect on in order to properly define.
He called the man, who came out of the bathroom leaning against the wall for support. On seeing him, Joanes stifled a cry of surprise. The man’s face was covered in scratches, as if he’d been attacked with a rake. One of the wounds cut across his eye. His torso was bare and his chest scored with more cuts.
“I’ve done everything you asked me to.”
When the man spoke, Joanes caught a glimpse of his teeth, which were covered in blood.
“So the old man put up a fight,” Joanes said.
“And her. She put up a fight, too. Will you give me Gagarin now? Can we go?”
“First close the door.”
“You’re going to leave those two out there, getting wet?”
“I don’t think they mind.”
The man closed and braced the door. In order to do so, he had to move the woman’s body to one side.
“Where’s Gagarin?”
“In the other room.”
“Is he all right?”
“Perfectly fine.”
“Can we go now?”
“Soon,” said Joanes.
Then he added, “It’s raining hard now.”
“But—”
“Sit, please.”
The man obeyed.
“Can I see my friend?”
“Don’t worry about him,” said Joanes, then he lit the oil lamp and turned off the flashlight.
“That’s better,” he said, taking a seat on the floor at a safe distance from the man. “What’s your name?”
“Abraham.”
“Do your friends call you Abe?”
“I don’t have any friends.”
“Your acquaintances, then?”
“Some.”
“All right. I’ll call you Abraham.”
And then he added, “Abraham, we should be clear about what’s just happened. You’ve just killed two people. You’ve taken their lives. Let’s not forget that. And I’m telling you this is case you should have any intention of going to the police.”
Abraham didn’t say a word.
“If you told anyone I forced you to do it, nobody would believe you. And if it came to that, I could show them how you attacked me, which would make your story even harder to believe,” said Joanes, holding up his maimed hand.