“The Bushman in my country believe,” Jalani said, “that when a lion kills a man, the lion takes the soul of the man and it corrupts him. The lion is pure until the soul of man enters him. He does not know of good and evil until he has eaten a man. When this happens, the lion becomes evil because it cannot tell the difference. It will always hunt men.” “Are you talking about the animal that killed my father? Thomas said it’s killed thirty people.” Jalani scoffed. “Is that what he said?” “Why? It’s not true?”
“Thomas is a good hunter and a man of the world. But he only believes what his eyes tell him. He has no imagination so he cannot believe that an animal can become evil. He says thirty, but I have seen animals kill many more. A lion near my village killed nearly two hundred before it was shot.” “Wow, that’s probably some sort of record.” “Record?” “Yeah, like the most any animal’s ever killed.”
“No, there have been others. But this one in India will soon surpass them. People that have seen it say that his eyes glow red in the night. They think it is the devil.” “Do you think that?” “No. Not the devil. But it is evil. And it needs to die.” “Are you going with Thomas to kill it?” “Yes, and so will you.” “I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“No,” Jalani said confidently, “you will go.” She rose and gave Eric a warm smile. “I knew your father. He was a good man. I see that goodness in you too.” She shut the door and Eric was left alone again in the ever shrinking room.
Thomas came later in the afternoon with a bag full of new clothes and some shoes. Eric was lying in bed watching television. Thomas walked to him and took a key out of his pocket, undoing the cuff chaining him to the bed.
Eric began rubbing the skin on his wrist. It was tender and moist and he could still feel the weight of the cuff clinging to him. “Thanks.”
Thomas nodded and laid the bag of clothing down on the bed. “Shower and dress, we’re leaving here today,” Thomas said as he walked off.
“The hotel?”
“No,” Thomas said from the front room, “Thailand. And I took the rest of your money and donated it to a nearby orphanage. I knew you wouldn’t mind.”
Eric looked over at the clothes. He could leave right now if he wanted, some of his strength had returned to him and he could probably make it away from Thomas if he protested. But the truth was this place had been hell. He’d seen things he could never have imagined seeing, and unwittingly become a part of them. That was the most sinister aspect of evil, he decided. That it could pose as necessity and disarm you. Before you even knew what was happening, you would be fully in its embrace.
Eric took the clothes, and walked into the bathroom.
CHAPTER
29
The Indian Ocean is at some places black as tar and at some places a shining turquoise blue. The third largest body of water on earth, it has highly important sea routes connecting the Americas with the Middle East, India and Asia. The traffic is mostly used for petroleum from the Middle East though hydrocarbons in the ocean floor itself are being tapped more often.
To be over such a vast expanse of water and nothing else felt a little like tight-rope walking without a net; one slip up and it would lead to your death. But the beauty of the water wasn’t lost on Eric. There was just something about the sea that could make you forget everything else. Looking at it from high above, he felt that it’d always been a part of him. Each wave like an emotion flowing through him.
The plane ride had been long and claustrophobic. They went from luxury planes on Air Asia to rickety private planes in India that rattled and shook at high speeds. Their pilot out of Calcutta had been drunk, but flew more competently than some of the sober ones. There were only a handful of people on the plane from the port of Goa India to Andhra Pradesh, most of them laborers being sent to this or that mine to slave for little wages.
Flying over Andhra Pradesh, one could see the great gold and green plains; the thick shrubbery of the bush, and the ancient trees with leafy branches hanging down to the ground in long strands. Animals of all shapes and colors painted the landscape and the skies were ruled by the black vultures, their bald heads tucked into their shoulders. Occasionally a village would pass by. They looked much like the shantytowns of Depression-era America. Rusted Tin buildings with mud and straw filling any gaps. On the outskirts of the villages were the less developed buildings made wholly of mud or straw or wood bound together with rope or vine. The mountains ranged from small green hills to giants with cloud covered peaks.
Eric could still feel the itch of addiction calling to him, but for the most part his mind was focused on the vast expanse of colors before him. The airport was smaller with only a few runways but you could sense the international flavor of the nation from this tiny corner of it. There was an abstract architectural design of various shapes welded to one another that was donated by the Dutch. A few trucks with BMW logos hauling cargo next to Cadillac’s. A British bistro situated near one of the terminals along with a free car service to the local British owned hotels.
Thomas stepped off the plane first and Eric followed. The air was salty because of the proximity of the ocean but it was warm and comfortable. Eric walked across the tarmac, a canvas bag filled with his clothes slung over his shoulder. Jalani walked next to him, smiling. “You’re glad you’re here?” Eric asked. “Yes. I love being in new places. I miss home too, but I love the excitement of somewhere new.” Eric thought of the mountains and snow filled winters of New Hampshire and the thought made him uncomfortable. “You do not miss your home?” “Yeah,” Eric said, “I do. I just can’t go back.”
“India can be your home. I have been here before. It is beautiful. And then when we are done, anywhere you wish to go can be your home.” “Home is where you hang your hat.” “I don’t understand.” “It’s nothing. Just another expression.”
They walked through the main terminal. The interior was blue carpet with a dirty white ceiling and blue chairs bolted to the walls for the waiting passengers to use. Eric was impressed with how modern it looked considering the savage plains and jungles it sat in the middle of.
Out on the curb in front of the airport was a waiting car with a driver in large sunglasses chewing on a toothpick. Thomas acknowledged him as he went to the trunk and put in his bag.
Eric rode in the backseat with Jalani while Thomas was up front with the driver. They were speaking in a language Eric couldn’t understand, but every once in awhile they would laugh or tell particularly long stories. The car was zipping down a long stretch of highway near the coast and the sun was bright in a cloudless sky. Eric stared out the window in wonder. The ocean and sky surrounding them appeared a crystal blue. They drove for less than two miles before coming upon the town of Kavali. It appeared a somewhat modern looking city. Except for the tourist areas, the homes and buildings were rundown; the metal rusted and paint peeling off the wood. Some of the homes had red tile roofs and others were just cheap tin from top to bottom.
“You must be careful,” Jalani said. “This is a very poor area. And when people are poor, they do things they may not wish to do.”