Saving Fish From Drowning (50 page)

It was the color Heidi noticed first, a bright rubbery red. The plants resembled crimson bananas growing out of the spongy soil set deep in a pocket of the roots of a rotting tree. “Look. Such an intense red,” she said, “almost fluorescent.” Moff turned and saw what she had found. As they drew closer, Heidi gasped and was immediately embarrassed that she had. The projectiles were the perfect likeness of erect penises with bulbous hoods, and the red color made them appear turgid and full to bursting. She turned away as if scanning about for other edibles. But Moff was still inspecting the plant.

“Seven inches long,” he reckoned. “What a coincidence.” He

winked at her and she laughed weakly. He thought about teasing her further, but stopped, realizing at that moment not only that he was attracted, but that he had grown fond of her, even her quirks, and especially her newfound daring in spite of her fears. He wondered whether she felt a similar attraction to him. And she did, yes indeed.

She liked that quality in him that was both rough and gentle. He was overconfident at times, yet these days, after his son’s illness, he seemed softer, protective, yet vulnerable. He could admit to his mistakes. All in all, she found him attractive. She liked the beard.

Moff bent down to inspect the plant more closely. “Might be a fungus,” he guessed. “The question is, can we eat it? Some fungi are delicious, some will turn your liver into pâté.” He noticed that a few of the plants sported small white waxy flowers. They looked like tiny 3 5 8

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chrysanthemums that had burst from wartlike bumps along the base of the hood.

“Hmmm, not a fungus,” he said. “Fungi don’t flower. The mystery deepens.” He ran his finger delicately around the head of the plant, then pressed and probed to determine its structure and texture. “Ah, soft to the touch yet firm,” he pronounced. He caught Heidi’s eye, and for five seconds, which was approximately four point five seconds too long, they stared at each other with slight smiles. This was his usual tactic with women, the gaze that let the woman know he was about to draw her in. But this time it was not calculated, and Moff was unfamiliar with the awkwardness he felt when he finally looked away and turned back to the plant.

“Isn’t it amazing how many things grow here?” Heidi said, trying to sound breezy. “There’s hardly any sun.”

“There are quite a few nonphotosynthetic plants,” Moff replied.

“Mushrooms for one. Truffles. A shady area is essential. That’s why you find them in canopy environments. It’s a pity that the rainforests are being razed worldwide by greedy assholes. They have no idea how many species of incredible things are being destroyed for good.”

“They’re destroying rainforests here in Burma as well?”

“As fast as they can clear them. Some for wood, some for heroin poppies, and a lot so they can run an oil pipeline to China, which, by the way, American companies are helping them build.”

Heidi took a closer look at the plant. “Are these rare?”

“Could be. They’re some kind of flowering parasite. See how

they’re latched on to the roots of this tree? They’ve been feeding off its root system.”

“You know so much about plants,” Heidi said. “I barely know the difference between a bush and a tree.”

“It helps if you own a five-acre nursery,” Moff said modestly. “I make my living growing the stuff that’s found in rainforests. Bamboo, giant palms.” He wiped at his damp brow with the back of his 3 5 9

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wrist. “Can’t say I’m too fond of the abundance of bamboo out here.

But if we ever get out, there’s a hardy species I have my eye on that would be ideal for a zoo I’m working with.” He carefully pulled out one of the strange red plants and held it up. It was attached to a twin, connected by a ball-like root. The thing looked even more obscene, Heidi thought, like the sexual organs of conjoined twin satyrs. She tried to act nonchalant.

“Aha!” Moff exclaimed. “I thought it might be.
Balanophora!
Yep, right ecosystem, grows in Asia—China and Thailand for sure. Quite a few species. Sixteen, as I recall. This may very well be the seventeenth. They’re listed in the annals of
Weird Plant Morphology
.

We’re all familiar with the bizarre humor in plant life. See the shape of the head? Most have more of an acorn pattern, not quite this smooth.” He extracted a few more plants. “I’ve never seen photos of anything like this,” he said, growing more excited by the second.

“If this is a new species, it’s a beauty, longer and thicker than most, and completely red, instead of having a flesh-colored stem.” He inspected it from all angles.

“What do you mean by new species?” Heidi said. “You mean it’s a mutant?”

“Just that it’s not identified, not in the taxonomy where people keep track of such things. Of course, the people here might have a name for it. Big Red, for all I know. Wow, this is incredible. . . .” He caught Heidi staring at him with a bemused expression.

He grinned. “Hey, if it’s a new species, I could get it named after me.” He drew his finger across as if reading a plaque:
“Balanophora
moffetti
.
”
He looked at Heidi again. “I’m kidding. Some scientist would first have to verify that it is indeed an undiscovered species, and it would probably be named after him. Though sometimes they name it after whoever found it.”

“I saw it before you,” Heidi teased.

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“Right you did! So it would be
Balanophora moffetti-starki
.”

“Balanophora starki-moffetti,”
she corrected.

“If I married you,” he said, “it could be
Balanophora moffettorum
and cover us both.”

Her mouth opened and she was about to speak, but she could not think fast enough for a witty rejoinder.
Married
. The word had surprised her. In the silence, they heard birds calling. He was about to tell her he was only joking, but that would make it seem as though he could not possibly see her in that light.

Finally she said, “I’d keep my name. But don’t worry, I’m not keen on having a plant that looks like
that
named after me.”

Now he felt reckless. He stood up. “We could still get married.”

The last two weeks had forced him to look at time and risk differently. His mind had once been focused on the future—future projects, future clients, future expansion. These days life existed in the context of before and now.

Heidi laughed. “You’re ridiculous. Stop joking.”

“I may not be,” he said. She grew quiet and looked at him, full of wonder. He tipped her face toward him and gave her a light kiss.

“Nice. Best kiss I’ve had in two weeks.”

“Me, too,” she said softly.

And with that permission, he slowly wrapped his arms around

her, and she grabbed on with surprising fierceness. At this point, let me simply say that they let the wild side of the jungle overtake their senses. I shall leave it to your imagination as to what exactly transpired. After all, it would be inappropriate to reveal the details, which were, I might say, quite extensive.

AN HOUR LATER , Moff and Heidi gathered up their clothes and a few other plants that they knew for certain to be edible or useful: 3 6 1

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plenty of ferns, young bamboo shoots, more of the medicinal sweet wormwood, and the lemon-scented leaves of a bush that, when

ground into a powder, helped deter the creepy-crawlies from coming into their tree huts. They placed their haul in the woven rattan baskets they had brought along, and returned to camp with a sense of dual accomplishment. The children ran toward them, shouting welcome, tugging on their hands to lead them to a plank by the cook fire, where they set the morning’s haul.

Black Spot’s daughter picked up the red penile-looking plant. The women who did the cooking quickly took the plant from her. One of the old ladies called out to Black Spot, who in turn yelled for Grease and Salt.

“You’ve seen this before?” Moff asked Black Spot.

“Yes, yes,” he said. “Many times. Very good plant.”

Moff was disappointed. It seemed the plant was not undiscovered after all.

But in fact, the plant was not officially known to the rest of the world. The tribe had found it just a few years earlier, and in taste-testing it, they discovered that its shape was good advertising for its potency. It was an aphrodisiac, and quite an effective one. A sliver of the plant, chewed slowly, could endow a man with the prowess of a twenty-year-old. It also resolved any prostate plumbing problems.

And it had a similar arousal effect on women, though this was not supposed to be discussed, for fear of an outbreak of lascivious ladies running amok.

Black Spot, Grease, and Salt would regularly make forays into the jungle. Whenever they found even one of these rare plants, they raised the bridge, scurried down the mountain with their treasure, and went into Nyaung Shwe, where they turned to a trusty network of sympathetic Karen and a man who was experienced in discretion and turning a huge profit.

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Throughout Myanmar, the power of the plant had grown quickly into fabulist lore. One seller cautioned his customers to try only a small amount, for he knew of a formerly love-hungry wife and her once inattentive husband who were now both hospitalized for sexual exhaustion. There was also talk of an ancient man who fathered three sets of twins with three beautiful sisters. Then there was the middle-aged virgin lady who once was too rigid from disuse to bend into the shapes required for lovemaking and who now had the flexibility of an acrobat. The effects of the plant were reputed to last for at least a week. It was also a preventative against one of the most terrifying and deadly conditions a man could develop,
koro
, which caused the genitals to be sucked up into the body. Once they disappeared, the victim died. No wonder the red plants were revered as “Second Life.”

With the money earned from selling the plant, Black Spot and his compatriots would buy supplies in discreet amounts from various shop owners, including dreamed-of foods, bolts of fabric, and of course, fermented delicacies. Then they would ascend the mountain and remain until they had more treasure to take down. It had been a long while, however, since they had found another plant.

Black Spot asked Heidi and Moff if they had seen more of the plants.

“A half-dozen,” Moff answered.

Black Spot translated to his compatriots. “Where are you finding this?” he said. “You can show me?”

“Sure. Is it good to eat?”

“Very good, yes,” Black Spot said. “But only for medicine. Not for everyday eating.”

“For what sickness?” Moff asked.

“Oh, some very bad sicknesses.
Koro
is one. I am not knowing the English word. You having this, you are wanting to die.” His compatriots nodded.

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“I guess it’s not what we thought it was,” Moff told Heidi, and they laughed.

Black Spot motioned for Moff and Heidi to enter the thick rainforest and retrace their steps. With Heidi’s compass, they pushed aside the cloak of green leaves, and forged their way back toward the jungle bed where they had so recently made love.

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• •

15

A PROMISING LEAD

Tonight the ragtag citizens of the jungle were grouped in front of the television according to the hierarchy of the divine. The twin gods sat in front, their grandmother between them. Black Spot, his cousin, and other cohorts squatted in the second tier. The women and children stood behind, and those with missing limbs sat off to the side on mats. It was nearly time for the nightly rerun of
Darwin’s Fittest
. My forlorn friends had not watched it over the past days; the demands of malaria had required their total attention.

Black Spot and the old grandmothers motioned that their honored guests should come join them.
Mes amis
declined. Instead, as had become their routine, they seated their morose and silent selves on logs and stumps by the campfire. Dwight sat next to Bennie. They had had a rapprochement: Dwight had apologized for taking his irritations out on Bennie, and Bennie had admitted that he was not ad

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equately prepared for the trip. “You got thrown into this at the last minute,” Dwight said. They recognized that they all needed one another. They did not know whom they might need in an emergency or for comfort if matters really became dire.

The ember-red logs threw a nervous dance of light on their faces.

In the early days of their plight, they had spoken urgently of ways to get out of No Name Place. As their unscheduled stay lengthened, they anguished over the possible ways to be saved. During the malarial scare, they bargained with God and the tribal powers that be.

And when all were on the potholed path to recovery, they learned that the boatman had lost his mind and now had delusions that Rupert was a god. Would they go insane as well?