The Darkest Heart (36 page)

I gritted my teeth and watched her walk onto the sand, Kássia following close behind.

‘She wants to get killed,' I said, but Kássia ignored me.

I stayed where I was, watching them go to the woman, then I continued back to the
Deus
, climbing the tyres and telling Daniella to start the engine.

‘We can't just leave them, Zico. You have to stay with her.'

‘No, we have to get away from here. We don't know who did this or how many of them there are.'

I could feel my own sense of urgency building. I wanted to bolt, like the animals and birds of the forest had bolted from the gunshot. I had to keep Daniella safe, and that meant taking her away from here as quickly as possible. This was why I hadn't wanted her on the boat.

‘What if something happens to them?' Daniella left her place at the wheel and came to where I was climbing aboard.

‘It's not our problem.' I jumped over onto the deck and headed for the wheel.

‘You don't mean that, Zico.' Daniella stood in my way.

‘Yes I do.' I put out a hand to move her aside. ‘If she wants to get herself killed, that's not our problem.'

Daniella resisted me, saying, ‘Zico, you can't—'

‘Why do you care so much about her? You don't even know her. My job is to protect you and this boat, not them.' I tried to pass around her but Daniella grabbed me, pulling me so I had to look at her.

‘You can't just leave them.'
Her expression stopped me dead. She couldn't believe I was going to abandon Dolores and Kassiá on that remote beach. It was a monstrous and cowardly thing to do. I could see it in her eyes.

‘Zico's right,' Leonardo said. ‘We should leave them.
I
would.'

I tore my eyes from Daniella's and looked down at Leonardo.

‘Don't listen to him,' Daniella said. ‘You're not like him.'

I looked over at Dolores and Kássia on the beach.

If I left them, there was a chance they would disappear just as Costa wanted. I would have my money and my land. Daniella and the old man would be safe.

All I had to do was leave. Right now.

But it didn't feel right. It didn't feel right at all.

I
wasn't
like Leonardo.

When I turned to Daniella once more, I knew I was going to do the right thing. That's what Dolores had said.
The right thing.

‘Start the engine,' I said, taking Daniella to one side so that Leonardo couldn't hear us. ‘Keep it running. I'll go bring them back. And pick up that rifle. Don't take your eyes off him again.'

Daniella nodded. ‘I promise.'

‘You're making a mistake,' Leonardo said as I returned to the gunwale and swung my leg over. ‘I would leave them.'

‘I'm not you,' I told him as I climbed back down into the water.

Daniella started the engine and the
Deus
coughed into life as I waded through the shallows and went to where Sister Beckett was kneeling in the sand.

Kássia stood beside her, watching the line of trees.

The naked woman was lying exactly as before, white-eyed to the sky, mouth open, tongue back in her throat. Grains of sand decorated her lips like tiny jewels, catching the flickering of the falling sun that managed to pierce the cloud from time to time. The wound in her neck was not a clean cut, but ragged as if someone had sawed at it with a blunt blade. Her arms bore angry scratches that broke the skin from shoulder to elbow. Her fingernails were broken, her thighs ripped and bruised.

Behind her, from the path that opened onto the bank, a trail of blood marked the journey to where she now lay.

Dolores had a hand to her mouth, her eyes closed, and was muttering an inaudible prayer while Kássia stood sentry.

I looked away from the dead woman, not wanting to see the images that were trying to fill my head. My sister's face burned through everything.

‘We need to go,' I said as I tried to push the visions away. ‘It's not safe here.'

Kássia nodded, but refused to take her eyes from the line of trees.

‘Someone is going to come looking for this woman,' I said. ‘Whoever did this is still in there. We heard the shot. They're going to come looking.'

‘Yes.'

‘We have to go.'

Sister Beckett sat back on her haunches and pushed to her feet. ‘This woman is Xavante.'

‘What does it matter?' I asked. ‘We need to leave.
Now.
You don't want to end up like—'

‘No,' she said. ‘We must see if anyone else needs our help.'

‘No way. Definitely not.'

But Dolores ignored me. She headed straight to the wall of dirt that bordered the beach, and hauled herself up amongst the shrubs. Kássia followed.

I looked back at the
Deus
, raising my hands to Daniella in exasperation, then I, too, followed.

‘Wait,' I said, trying to keep my voice to a whisper. ‘Sister Beckett; wait a second.'

She stopped. ‘I'm not leaving without—'

‘Yeah, yeah,' I said. ‘Sure. Fine. But let's not stomp in there like a startled tapir, OK? Let's be a little quieter. You heard that shot right? A gunshot? That means someone has a gun and they might shoot at us.' I tried not to sound as if I were talking to an imbecile. ‘You don't want them to know we're coming.'

She thought about what I'd said. ‘OK, Zico. You're right.'

‘Well at least that's something. And you,' I asked Kássia. ‘You're really not armed?'

‘Only with our words,' Dolores answered for her.

‘But you know how to use a weapon, right?' I took the smaller of my two pistols and held it out to Kássia. ‘Otherwise why are you here?'

‘No guns, Zico. Kássia is my companion,' Dolores said.

‘Sure,' I replied. ‘And we all need a companion who looks like she's trained.'

‘Kássia does not need a weapon, Zico.'

‘I say she does.' I tried to press the pistol into her hand.

Dolores opened her mouth to speak but I cut her off saying, ‘Let her speak for herself. She has a tongue, right?'

Kássia shook her head and refused the weapon.

‘Fine.' I held out a hand. ‘After
you
then.'

Sister Beckett remained where she was, sizing me up. ‘How do you know my name is Sister Beckett?'

‘What?'

‘Before, coming off the boat, you called me Sister Beckett. And again just a few moments ago.'

‘Did I? You must have said. Look, we really haven't got time to—'

‘I told you my name is Dolores.'

‘We shouldn't be standing here,' I said.

Sister Dolores Beckett looked into me again, as if she knew exactly who and what I was; as if she knew my intention. Then she adjusted her glasses and stepped to one side.

‘Lead the way, Zico. I am in your hands now.'

46

A worn path cut through the trees and emerged into a small, planted area of corn that had grown almost to head height. The stalks were in neat rows, and were well tended, but there was something menacing about the way they stood straight and still, with only the slightest breeze rustling through them. The leaves buzzed in the waft of warm air, creating an unnerving hush, and even the insects paused as we entered the plot. Their humming and creaking stopped, the silence ringing in our ears, our footsteps soundless on the red earth.

Once we were moving among the plants, though, the insects began their song once more, stopping as we reached them and restarting when we had passed. Their music washed around us like a wave, just as the water cut and washed around the bow of the
Deus.

On either side of the small cornfield, manioc grew in lines, and beyond that, a meagre collection of primitive buildings was huddled in a clearing. There were six in all, three on either side of a track which cut to the edge of the clearing and disappeared among the trees at the far side.

Behind the shacks to the left of the track, a large cleared area was strewn with ash and the charred remains of trees which hadn't been consumed by the burn. Weak wafts of greenwood smoke rose from that place, spinning, spiralling, thinning and disappearing as they met the air above where vultures waited in the treetops.

The sombre creatures hopped from one foot to another, opening their wings like storm cloaks and screeching to one another. Their calls echoed in the still and overbearing heat of the dull afternoon,
reminding me of the day Costa forced this job on me; the day the old man had chased the vultures from his roof, telling me it was a sign of death to have them there.

I had laughed then, but I wasn't laughing now.

‘Smallholding.' Sister Beckett said to herself as we watched the settlement from the edge of the cornfield.

Already, the shadow closed around me. Ahead, there was the unknown, and behind, there was Kássia.

I hadn't felt her as a threat before, but I was beginning to think that Sister Beckett knew my intention towards her. And I was certain that Kássia was more dangerous than she appeared.

‘We have to go and look,' Sister Beckett said, and I stepped deeper among the corn, forging a route towards the buildings.

Some of the plants were bent towards us, broken off and trampled, and there were traces of blood on the ears, their trailing silks like brushes dipped in crimson.

‘She came this way.' Kássia spoke to me, her eyes going to the pistol in my hand. ‘Bleeding the whole way. She was strong.' She leaned close to my ear. ‘I hope you know how to use that thing.'

We emerged from the corn and came to a stop, standing at its periphery, three of us in a line, Sister Beckett in the centre.

Five metres away, the closest of the buildings on this side of the track stood with its door swung open to the flattened dirt in front of it. A crude construction of mud bricks baked dry in the sun. Young trees had been cut from the forest to provide roof beams and supports, and palm fronds had been laid over them for shelter. The door was designed with some expertise using similar saplings, cut to exactly the right size and shape, then bound with a weave of palm leaves.

At our feet, the spots and sprays of blood led to a grisly pattern of deep red that was soaked into the earth on the track. Its dark, uneven shape was etched into the ground as a grotesque reminder of what had happened here.

On the shack itself, a rope was trailing over the roof support on the near side of the door, pulled taut, its tail tied off to a sturdy
tree. On the other end of the rope, a bare-chested man was hanging by his neck so he was just centimetres from the ground.

His arms were tied behind his back, his dry toes brushing the dust, his chin pulled up and to the side. His face was a palette of blood and bruises and his eyes bulged in the indignity of his death.

He was dressed only in a pair of shorts, emerald green with a white stripe on the side.

There were others there, too. Other bodies that were defiled and brought together on the patch of land that had recently been cleared.

I could see now that not only charred trees lay scattered in the fresh burn, but a tangle of limbs, both male and female, lay there too. And there were limbs that belonged to neither man nor woman. Childish hands that were yet to grow but were now reduced to lifeless skin and bone and flesh.

It was obvious to me that the bodies were to be burned, and that whoever had perpetrated this slaughter was still here, finalising their massacre.

I put my hand on Sister Beckett's shoulder and whispered. ‘Are you ready to go
now?
Have you seen enough?'

As I spoke, though, a man stepped out of the building in front of us, with a rifle in one hand and a blood-etched machete in his belt. He stopped to look down at the stain before him.
‘Caralho.'
He kicked at the mark. ‘Where the fuck did she go?' And he saw the trail on the ground, followed it with a turn of his head, looked up, eyes dark under the brim of his hat, and saw us, standing in a line, watching him.

Sister Beckett took a sharp, involuntary breath.

We all remained still, as if frozen. Wondering, calculating. The cicadas continued their indifferent chorus.

Then the man shifted his rifle, taking it in both hands and turning it on us.

So I raised my pistol and shot him through the heart.

The report was startling in that place of death and darkness. A hollow and intrusive sound, accompanied by a wisp of powder smoke hanging in my face before breaking up and vanishing.

The man took a step back, confusion in his eyes, and released the rifle, which clattered to the dirt. He stood for a second in the ringing silence, blood beginning to show on his shirt, then his legs weakened and he fell to his knees, tottering as if in prayer, before falling forward on his face and lying still.

Then a voice called out into the grey afternoon.

‘Edson!'

Kássia pushed Sister Beckett to the ground, taking her low, making her small, and crouching in front of her as a second figure stepped out of the building, straight into my line of fire. This one didn't have time to take his eyes off his dead partner before I shot him in the chest, knocking him back against the doorframe, his body turning as he crumpled to the ground.

And then came more.

Two men appeared from behind the other buildings, running out into the path and spotting their friends. I fired on them too, but they weren't so close and my first shot went wide, kicking dust.

I dropped to my knees, aiming along the sights, wishing I had one of Leonardo's rifles, and I fired again as they ran to find cover.

‘We have to get out of here.' Kássia spoke now. ‘We have to get her away.'

‘They'll follow,' I said.

‘Then we'll have to make sure they don't.' Kássia took hold of Sister Beckett and pulled her to her feet as the men took their first shots at us. She kept hold of the nun and ran her to the side of the nearest building, taking cover behind its thick wooden and brick walls.