“Is that a fish?”
“Of course, it is! Look, it looks like this...” Shereen turned to him and pouted her lips, trying to make her face look like a statue, but instead Hulk was admiring her beautiful face lit with the moonlight,” Do I look like the statue?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you're not as mossy and cracked.”
“Well, thanks!”
Suddenly, Hulk heard footsteps behind him and turned around - a policeman was approaching them.
“Hide the bottle.” Hulk ordered.
The plastic bag rustled as Shereen hid the bourbon in there.
A police officer rapidly approached the fountain.
“Hey, what’s going on here? Why are you sitting on the fountain - you are breaking the rules!”
By the time he came closer, Hulk and Shereen got out of the basin and stood next to it. The bottle was safely hidden away.
“Show me your bracelets!” growled the man in the uniform, “You will get huge fines for being in the wrong place at night, and I personally will make sure that...”
Before he could finish the sentence, Hulk showed him a badge with a holographic seal. The policeman directed his torch at it and then the tone of his voice changed dramatically from rough to almost obsequious.
“Oh! Mr Conrad! I'm sorry; I could not recognise you in the dark.”
“It's okay.” Hulks said it calmly but frostily.
“I didn’t mean to violate your privacy, you are free to do whatever you want, but I have to check this miss.”
His torch shone in Shereen’s face.
“No, you don’t have to, Mr Grisyak.” Hulk cut him off. He read the man’s name on his badge, “I think we understand each other.”
Shereen was amazed at the dramatic change of Hulk’s demeanour and behaviour in just a few short seconds. A minute earlier he was just sitting on the edge of the fountain and smiling, and now he was looking arrogantly with a face like a cold and nasty mask. The policeman clearly knew that he shouldn’t argue, but his work required being persistent and he hesitantly stammered:
“Please, understand me, I have to verify... your lady’s identity and report to the office...”
“I think we are going resolve everything right now.” Hulk interrupted him again, “Give me your bracelet.”
The officer obediently stretched out his hand. As the bracelet made a beeping sound, his face bloomed.
“No problem, Mr Conrad. I wish you a pleasant evening and I haven’t seen anyone with you.”
Almost as quickly as he appeared, the officer plunged into one of the park’s dark alleys. Hulk frowned. The romantic mood was lost; they had to get out of here.
“We have to go.” he said and picked up the bag with the bourbon.
Shereen sighed and trudged behind him. She was sorry to lose that Hulk she saw earlier - almost a friend, but she had to face up to the truth - he was the owner of the ranch and she escaped from it without his permission. She mustn’t test his patience any longer especially since he’s already been so kind to her, agreeing to let the actual escape go. But yet...
A few minutes later the SUV’s engine was already roaring, the speedometer was clocking up the miles, and Shereen almost immediately fell asleep in the passenger seat.
Hulk looked at her and the jammed bottle in her hand.
Yes, the police did spoil the romance of the evening, but the feelings that Hulk experienced in the park hid inside trying to avoid getting noticed or pushed away and now, sly and funny, they were watching Hulk from within.
He shook his head. Something around has subtly changed, but he could not quite grasp what it was. Everything seemed the same - the same scenery, same grass, and the same mountains on the horizon, but the air tasted more delicious, the feelings were more vivid, night calmer and the tiredness has gone completely.
This new perception didn’t feel bad, quite the opposite - it felt calming and... right. Hulk shook his head once again. The world presents us with some weird things at times.
Three more days have passed since the night when we came back to the ranch together. The wagon of my life was back on track, and was now firmly in its place held by the four wheels. Most of the time I was busy doing the translation, sitting on the porch or helping Tabitha out and I’ve not had any meetings with Hulk in his office. Nowadays, he was often spending the evenings in the city - whether at the club, or some other place, and now, I could honestly admit that I was missing him. During the day if I was outside, I would carefully look out for his figure or throw glances at his office windows or the balcony, hoping to see him there, smoking a cigar, or enjoying some fresh air.
These days I felt like there was an invisible thread, connecting us. I began to feel Hulk through the distance and became particularly susceptible to his voice if I heard it somewhere close by. My heart was galloping every time he’d come within my sight. I wasn’t sure what we’ve became to each other – friends? Good acquaintances? Something else? But one thing I knew for sure - I was attracted to him as a piece of metal to a magnet, like a boat tired of wallowing on the waves to a paradise island, where a shelter, warmth and peace could be found. Day by day this attraction was growing stronger and stronger, and I didn’t really know what to do with it. Should I hide it? Should I show it? Trying not to get too deep into analysing, I decided to just let it be as it was unlikely that I could get rid of this feeling. But there was one question that bothered me more than anything - is Hulk feeling the same way? Did he pick up on the odd connection that happened after the night at the fountain? As if our receivers got tuned in to the same frequency? Nobody could answer this question except Hulk and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know the answer; or his reaction - good or bad - would this shake my inner world again.
I also noticed that those eight points I spent on bourbon, quietly and peacefully recovered themselves back to my bracelet, as if Hulk once again apologised for his involvement in the sharp drop of my mood. I nodded to myself, accepting his apology, and smiled. No matter how hard Hulk tried to pretend to be a monster to the others, for me he became the most caring person since my arrival to Tally and just a thought about him would give me butterflies in my stomach. If our relationship (whatever it was) suddenly froze at this very point without becoming any better or worse, I’d never complain, because I was very happy with just the friendship and with this thread that connected us now.
During those days I managed to accumulate a lot of new translated pages and I knew that another meeting with Hulk in his office was due very soon. I waited for it with bated breath, not rushing it, but enjoying the anticipation of seeing him again. What is he really like, deep inside? And what was making him so special, that I had a constant desire to curl up on his knees like a cat or press my cheek against his warm chest and sleep?
I didn’t know it.
But I decided at my next trip to town I will definitely have to find a few things that I had not thought about before. Just in case.
However, the following day I forgot all about the sentimental thoughts as the harsh reality of Tally surrounded me again.
It happened on the next day at noon.
Returning from the quarry with an empty cart and barrel on it, I heard some heated yelling and someone’s voices from afar. The guards gathered up about fifty meters away from me, close to the gate leading to the highway. Greg was shouting and gesturing angrily, hands and batons were flashing in the air, and there was someone lying on the ground. Not thinking of what I was doing, I left the cart on the dusty road and rushed to the group. Something terrible was going on.
They were beating up a man. From what I could see, looking at his wrinkled skin covered in dirt and blood, he wasn’t young. His crumpled paper cap that the plantation workers were wearing following my innovation fell off his head and was lying nearby. The man was being kicked, beaten with the batons on his back and ribs and he wasn’t even allowed to get up from the ground. Other field workers seemed scared but still were coming closer and gathering around the guards, trying to see what was going on. Greg was spitting so much that it was impossible to understand what he was saying. The man on the ground was writhing, moaning and making a hissing sound, as if his lungs have been pierced with something sharp. Blood was trickling down from his broken nose and lips, he was pressing his hands to his chest, trying to protect the stomach from the blows, but it wasn’t helping; his limbs would twitch every time the shoes of angry guards smashed into his bare chest, back or head.
I didn’t remember all the details, only a feeling of an utter terror and coldness that went over me like a sheet of ice, despite the forty-degree heat. I also remember a feeling of helplessness, powerlessness and a desperate wrath as well as the guard’s hateful faces, the eyes of some women full of panic and grief, the old man making a sign of a cross, clenched fists of men and saliva flying out of Greg’s mouth.
“What are you doing?!” not recognising my own voice, I yelled, “You’ll kill him!!!”
I rushed forward, but someone standing nearby, grabbed my hand.
“Don’t! Don’t go there!”
-“Where are you...”
“Stop!”
Not noticing any voices and fingers, holding me back, I leapt forward with so much power, that my T-shirt ripped.
“Leave him alone, you brutes!”
I broke through the crowd, jumped to the guard, who at this moment was raising his hand, intending to hit an almost lifeless man. I grabbed his baton and tried to snatch it out of his hand.
“Don’t you dare beat him!” I grabbed the baton with one hand and with another I kept hitting him on his back.
The guard turned around and roared at me. Before I could hit him again, someone roughly shoved me aside.
“Get the fuck away from here!”
A second later I found myself sitting in the dust, shook my head, trying to recover after a blow in the ribs, and not paying any attention to the pain, I lashed out at the guards again.
“Leave him alone!” I gasped; my lungs were wheezing as if they were full of sand.
“I’ll leave you alone now!” a familiar gruff voice roared directly in my ear, and someone' spun me around. The last thing I saw was Greg’s distorted face and his fist dashing straight towards me. Then the right side of my head exploded with pain, and the world collapsed.
After a while I felt someone shaking my shoulder.
“Get up, dear, get up... Are you alive? Don’t lie on the ground. Are you here? Oh, silly you... why did you have to get involved?” The voices were fading away, vision was blurry and my eyes didn’t want to open. Eventually, scratching my palms against some small sharp rocks on the road and with someone’s help, I was able to take a sitting position. My head was throbbing, cheek was pulsating like a bomb, and the world was slowly spinning around. Probably, no more than a minute or two had passed since the moment when Greg hit me, during which time I was lying unconscious in the dust, until someone pulled me to the side.
The man was not getting beaten anymore, but the guards were still standing around him, like some hound dogs that had just strangled their prey. Their victim was no longer moaning or moving - not a human being, but a solid lump of sand, mud and blood.
Greg wiped the sweat from his face, attached the baton to his belt and continued to broadcast to the crowd.
“...and it will happen with anyone else who tries to escape from the ranch or make one step from the gate! Is that clear? Does anyone else want to try?”
The crowd was murmuring and wailing, wrapped in a cloud of terror. Someone was crying.
Greg spat on the sand, barked at the guard to take the beaten man to the infirmary and ordered the crowd to disperse.
“Get out of here! Now!”
Someone helped me to get up from the ground, and I staggered along the road towards the mansion. I couldn’t remember properly how I got back to my little room or how I fell into my bed. I closed my eyes trying not to think, feel or remember anything. I didn’t want to think about the man lying on the ground or the sounds a baton emits when it crashes someone’s bones, I didn’t want to remember about this ranch or this city or about anything bad that happens outside this room.
Will there ever be anything good in life? Or will the rest of my life always be a mix of awful events and even worse situations? I rolled on my side, pressed my fingers to my swollen cheek and started to cry.
Hulk came back late in the evening.
I heard his jeep driving into the garage and the front door opening, letting the car inside. Despite the fact that my cheek a few hours later seemed to hurt even more, I was waiting for this moment. As soon as everything quietened down in the yard, I left my room and went to the stairs leading up to the second floor. When I reached the office door I halted for a few second, listening to the voices coming from the inside, but there wasn’t any. Then I knocked.
When Hulk opened the door, I, without saying a word or asking for an invitation, walked straight in. When the light fell on my face, Hulk slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on my cheek, closed the door and walked towards me.
For a few seconds he just stood in front of me, looking at my swollen face – his grey eyes twinkling with suppressed rage, his lips were pressed into a thin line, the square corners of his jaw with all the muscles tensed up were now particularly standing out. Even his neck started to look like an interlacing of ropes.
“Greg?” was the only word he said.
“Yes.” I said calmly, “But I deserved it, so don’t worry.”
“Deserved it?” Hulk asked steadily, but it felt like some frost appeared in the corners of the room.
“I lashed out at the guards.”
“Why?”
“I was trying to stop them.”
“To stop them from what?” Hulk’s nostrils were faintly quivering, indicating the tremendous amount of effort he needed to remain unemotional. Something was telling me that Hulk was one step away from tearing everything apart with his bare hands.
“I was trying to stop them from beating up a man.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Hasn’t Greg reported it yet?” I pretended to be surprised, “the man they were beating up with five batons; the one that was lying on the ground and choking on blood and sand.”
Hulk froze. The atmosphere in the room became very uncomfortable. The tension turned into a dangerous mixture that was ready to explode with a carelessly thrown word.
The silence was pressing on my ears and nerves, whipping up my irritation even more.
“And you?” I barely stopped myself from poking my finger in Hulk’s chest.
“What about me?”
“You weren’t there! You weren’t there to stop it!” I spat the words in his face, “Why was that? Where were you?”
“I don’t have to justify myself to you.” now there was ice in the depth of his grey eyes.
“Maybe you sanctioned all this? Do you benefit from it? Or you just enjoy it? Tell me!” I knew I was crossing the line, but the wrath that’s been bubbling inside for the past few hours, was now spilling out, whether I wanted it or not.
“Why was he attacked by so many guards, while he could just be punished with points? Was it really necessary.... like that?”
“There are certain rules on this ranch!”
“Were they set by you? By YOU?” I was now yelling.
Hulk gnashed with his teeth and pointed at the door.
“Go away.”
“Go away? Is it that simple? Is everything in your life that simple?”
“I said – go away.”
“You are... a monster!” I exploded, feeling the tears pouring down my cheeks, “You have not done anything to prevent it! You have done nothing to help him!...”
“Get out!!!” roared Hulk.
I shuddered, wiped my wet cheeks and walked to the door with my back stiffed.
“He died, you know? He died...”
When the office door closed, Hulk clenched his fists. After standing motionless for a few seconds, he forced himself to relax, came to the wall, leaned on it with his hand and closed his eyes. His whole body was aching from the tension and the silence after all the shouting was devastating. He was the only one who knew what was really going on at the ranch and he must keep it in secret by all means, even if it costs him everything. Even her.
Hulk walked over to the bar and poured a glass of whiskey. After he drank it in one gulp, he filled it up again and only then allowed himself to sink into a chair.
As he lit up his cigar, his hands were trembling.
She knew there may never be a better moment for this than now.
Yesterday, Greg finally brought the key; bastard - he was dragging it out for so long! Jenny would still be upset, if it wasn’t for all the events that suddenly joined together into one picture - the picture she really wanted to see. Oh, no! Now she was no longer getting upset - she was thrilled. For the first time in a long time Jenny was truly happy.
How cool that yesterday Shereen got right in the middle of the scuffle with the guards! It wasn’t just good timing - it was perfect! Now, when she was so upset and angry with Hulk and his people, everyone will believe that she is guilty, without even trying to get down to the bottom of the truth. Jenny was certain about that. The situation will be interpreted as blazing, hard and fast revenge - Shereen’s revenge for the unjust rules at the ranch and for being punched by Greg.
Jenny smiled wryly.
Who cares about these pathetic dregs of society? They all deserve to be here; they all deserve to be punished with hard labour and beatings! Why was there any need at all to stand up for one of them? Jenny seriously doubted that people could act out of so-called noble impulses. Everyone knows - it's a cruel world where everyone tries to do the best they can, and only those who are aggressive enough to snap up the biggest piece of pie could survive.
Now it was time for Jenny’s great, poisonous and thought through revenge. Oh, yes! The anticipation has lasted for far too long, but it was well worth it. When she is finished with Shereen, Jenny will live in the mansion - it’s all been set up for a while now.
Sitting on the steps, beside the barracks and squinting from the bright morning sun, Jenny was scrolling through every detail of her cunning plan again and again.
The arson must happen tonight; she couldn’t wait any longer and had to execute her plot quickly and according to the circumstances. So, come midnight the warehouse with everything that’s been harvested for the past month, will be set on fire. It is a pity that the barrels with berries will get demolished too - her neighbours put so much effort into picking them, but there is nothing can be done to save them since the berry yield is kept under the same roof. So, when the wooden barn goes up in flames, the fire will spread onto the women’s barracks, which are located close by - Jenny was pretty sure that women will have enough time to evacuate the buildings. Jenny has to make sure that she is not the one who smells the smoke first, it must be someone else - here she will have to rely on her luck. But it wasn’t that important.
What was the most essential thing was to bring an empty gas canister to Shereen’s room and remain unnoticed. And before that Jenny must steal some of the clothes that the bitch wears all the time and damage it in the fire. The burnt clothes will become that strong evidence when it comes to finding the offender.
It wasn’t too much of a problem to steal a t-shirt - that could be done tomorrow afternoon when Shereen is out to do her business at the quarry and later on Jenny will lure her out of the room under the false pretences that too have been carefully planned. It would even better if the guards discovered some other Shereen’s belongings somewhere by the burnt warehouse and think to themselves - what could that be?
Jenny frowned, pondering. There wasn’t much time left and there was still so much to think about... Meanwhile the sun was climbing higher and higher up in the sky and it was time to go to work - everyone else was already doing their job at the berry plantation.
Jenny reluctantly got up from the steps, feeling the sweat rolling down her back and picked up the gloves, which Shereen bought for all the women some time ago so that they don’t scratch their hands on the thorny bushes. Well, well, this puritan thought about every bloody worker at the ranch. But it’s OK. Soon everything will change. Very soon.
The time till noon was passing slowly, it was hot and stuffy, but Jenny was not complaining - she was picking the loathsome berries, not listening to what the others were chatting about. Her thoughts were constantly shifting from one subject to another, but the general idea was the same - today’s arson. The canister with petrol, which she had stolen from the garage the other night, was securely resting in between the thick corn stalks. That part of the field won’t be harvested any time soon as the cobs were still unripe and there was no risk that it would be discovered. Jenny pinched a lighter from Greg a long time ago which was now lying in her pocket, just in case. She couldn’t leave it in the barracks - there was a chance that the women would notice and remember it which could potentially serve as evidence against Jenny.
She must also be very careful with the petrol so that her clothes don’t soak up the its smell, but even then, it’s highly unlikely that nobody would pick up on it when it all kicks off. Jenny is only going to slip outside for a minute to have a pee and when she comes back the warehouse will be on fire. All her neighbours usually sleep soundly and nobody wakes up when someone goes out to the toilet - she made sure of it enough times. Even though there was still some risk (you could never avoid the risk completely in this sort of game) Jenny didn’t worry too much.
A pesky fly buzzed past her ear, Jenny angrily frowned and waved her hand – she was so fed up of hanging around in this sun, this heat, from this boredom, earning these miserable points, which might bring her the desired freedom no sooner than a couple of hundred years. She was really missing those days when she was working at the “Polo” earning a lot more, having fun here and there, relaxing with the owner, and returning back in a small, but still her own apartment in the evenings. And Robert was such a nice chap... Yes, almost boy like sometimes, but still lovely. Jenny missed feeding him.
Then Shereen came and ruined everything. Because of HER everything got turned upside down and Jenny ended up at this rotten ranch, living with these women, doing this hellish work with no light at the end of the tunnel! Why was Shereen allocated a separate room, whereas Jenny was placed in the barracks? Why is it that Shereen sees the handsome Hulk every day whereas it was always Jenny’s dream to hook up with one of the rich owners and have a luxury life in Tally? Why wasn’t Shereen slaving over these miserable bushes, and instead pretending to be a heroine-saviour of all the poor and disadvantaged? Why wasn’t she sleeping in the creaky drafty barracks, squeezed like a sheep into a herd and not able to find a moment for a rest?
Jenny clenched her fists, almost shaking with anger. But today Shereen will pay for everything and pay dearly - her room and her possessions will be taken away. It will even be better if Hulk gives her at the mercy of Greg - he wants to have fun with her so much!
But the mo