“Quiet! I'm not gonna hang around here all night long. So.... Instead of interrogating every single one of you and spending hours on this nonsense we’ve decided to keep it simple.”
He turned and looked at Hulk who nodded back at him almost imperceptibly; Greg continued.
“If by the morning nobody comes forward with a confession, twenty points will be taken off of every bracelet.”
My hands got very cold rapidly and the blood drained from my face. At this time, an explosion of angry voices almost swallowed the guard’s voice. People were grumbling and rebelling openly, resenting and even swearing and cursing. I swallowed the lump in my throat and stopped breathing for a moment.
For fuck’s sake!
Greg, not paying any attention to the discontent brewing said, “I don’t give a monkey if one of you was hoping that something like this would go unpunished. One of you decided that they could do such a filthy thing, go to bed laughing at us and lying under the blanket think well, let those donkeys in uniforms search for the thief all night long. Well, now it will be a lesson for everyone.”
While I stood there trying to digest what I’d just heard and swaying back and forth from the fear and guilt that filled my body from top to bottom, Greg went up to a skinny guy and poked him with a club in his bare chest.
“Maybe it was you?”
The man shook his head, mumbling something but Greg interrupted him.
“Then you'd better confess if you know who did it.” he walked away from the guy and tucked his hands behind his belt, “any of you had better admit what you know and do it before eight o’clock, because precisely at eight o’clock each one of you will see twenty points disappear from your bracelets. Got it? And you know what? I like the idea when everyone pays for someone else’s wrongdoing. You’ll be working here for lifetime then and we will carry on beating you with new whips happily!”
Greg began laughing loudly, nervously and with an undisguised gee and the rest of the guards followed him. Only Hulk wasn’t smiling, intently looking at the faces. His own face was drowned in a shadow but even so, the glare of his narrowed eyes was visible from where I was standing.
Trying to pretend to be sleepy and keeping up with an uncomprehending facial expression, I desperately hoped that the bright spots on my pale cheeks will be considered as a lack of sleep.
When the crowd was dismissed I got back to my room.
What should I do? What should I do?
I kept on asking myself again and again, sitting in a stuffy dark room, looking at the pale moon sailing through the dark night sky. Yes, I wanted to help, I wanted workers’ backs to heal a little bit and I thought that a short break with from the whips will contribute to the process, but who knew that it will turn out to be this serious? If I don’t come clean and confess what I’d done by the morning, each worker on the ranch will lose twenty precious points! How many people were in the yard? Fifty? One hundred? More?
Maybe someone else will confess? This treacherously sweet thought, like a rustling snake, crept up into my mind. Maybe someone else will sacrifice themselves to save the others and then nobody will know it was me?
It was very unlikely and my hope for someone else’s false confession was illusionary, if not so frail that it was rapidly dissolving due to the lack of any optimism that could nourish such a daft idea. Nobody wants to go to Greg to get punished and then remain in anathema, cursed be those who would’ve nearly paid for the so-called "joke" or an “act of heroism” - call it what you like.
I sighed, turned away from the window and stared at the wall; I ran my fingers through my shaggy hair and turned back to the window - the only source of light in this little cave with no access to the fresh air. Once again I regretted that the door to the yard was locked.
Damn it… what do I do?
Actually, the answer had already matured in my head but my rational mind was refusing to accept it.
Yes, I have to go and confess. But where do I find the strength to appear before the nasty senior ward’s face with such a statement? Especially after I nearly brought him to a boiling point earlier on at the cornfield? He will not just punish me; he will enjoy tormenting me around the clock with Hulk’s approval. After observing Mr Conrad today I had no doubts he’ll sign the permission if they ever have the need for anything to be signed.
I sighed again. My thoughts were reluctantly coming back to the confession I have to make; my body was shaking from fear, causing some nasty stomach jitters and a desire to pee. I twisted on the rigid bed, dreaming for a miracle to happen that could knock me on the head with and I’d fall asleep immediately forgetting all the troubles.
I don’t want to go there, I just don’t want to! Let them do whatever they want including taking off these bloody twenty points off everybody.”
But as soon as I imagined covering myself with the blanket to try and doze off - the indisputable knowledge came to me - I will not be able to fall asleep tonight. I just can’t do it. How can I fall asleep knowing that because of my actions many people who are already tired from mere survival on the ranch will suffer even more? How many days had they spent earning those twenty points? Rather than deal with mathematics I made the final decision – I have to go and own up to what I’d done. Just give myself couple of more minutes and then I’ll go. But as I imagined the malicious predatory grin of Greg’s face, I almost groaned. No, I can’t go and confess everything to him - I’d rather be burnt alive. But what should I do then?
An intangible thought momentary slid to another face – a sullen but handsome face with narrowed eyes gleaming in the shade.
Hulk. Damn him. I’d rather go to him instead and let him decide. If he passes me over to Greg then be it.
“But what if he doesn’t?”
A weak glimmer of hope emerged in my mind and I found myself standing by the door leading to the hallway turning the handle. Yes, now. Otherwise the courage will abandon me for good.
I remembered where Hulk’s office was located since my last visit there. After creeping along a few silent corridors, past the hushed room and dark windows, I was right in front of the door on the third floor. Yes, that was the door. This is his office with the French doors and the balcony where he usually smokes his evening cigar. Is he already asleep? And what if he is asleep, should I wake him or should I retreat? But then I have to look for Greg and I still haven’t got enough of courage to do that.
Passing through the lounge, immersed in moonlight and decorated with gold I glanced at the big old clock filling the quiet room with monotonous (even cosy in some way) ticking – it was showing quarter to three or ten to three... I couldn’t be certain what time it was since I didn’t want to come too close and risk tripping over something making noise.
Is he asleep or not? I saw a dim strip of light penetrating from underneath the door but it could just be the night lamp which was kept on all night long. I couldn’t wait until eight o’clock because it will be too late; many bracelets (including my own) will make a short beeping noise and lose twenty points.
I almost laughed thinking about it but then moaned from the fear. No, I haven’t got the nerve to wait until eight.
So I gathered up all my courage, slowly raised my hand and knocked on the door.
After a few seconds I heard the steps and the door opened. Hulk was dressed the same way as during the meeting in the yard - white shirt with rolled up sleeves and black jeans. So, he wasn’t asleep, flashed in my mind.
Lost for words with a wildly beating heart, I stupidly fixed my eyes on the thin sparkling gold chain around his neck, not daring to raise my head.
“Come in.” he said quietly, looking tired and stepped back inside the room.
I took a few steps and paused in the middle of the room. Again, as once before I felt the wave of hideous sense of inconsistency, because my dirty jeans and faded from a numerous of washes T-shirt didn’t fit into the noble luxurious interior of this apartment. The night lamp was turned on as I thought. Not even a night lamp, but a floor lamp that stood next to the chair; there was an open book on the armrest, which its owner most likely was reading, before the knock on the door.
The electronic clock on the table was glowing with green digits "3:58" and instead of feeling embarrassed and ashamed ahead of my confession, I suddenly felt embarrassed that because of me now Hulk won’t be able to sleep for a while.
Why would I be feeling this? – I asked myself surprised. – He probably sleeps until noon, eats hearty food and does what he wants wherever he wants...However, the awkwardness hadn’t disappeared and instead it intensified when Hulk wearily rubbed his temples and frowned.
“I’m sorry for such a late visit...”
He just waved his hand towards the wide leather sofa.
“Sit down.”
I sat down, clasped my hands on my knees, leaned back and took a deep breath. This is it. It will all kick off now. Showtime, ladies and gentlemen! Atonement for the sins....
Hulk sat in a chair in front of me, placed his arms on the armrests, looked at me expectantly and slowly touched the lower lip with the index finger.
I forced myself to exhale, I said.
“It was me who demolished the whips.”
Froze in anticipation of his reaction, I was stunned with the silence that hung after my words, but even more so that the person in front of me didn’t even move. He didn’t look surprised, his eyebrows didn’t raise and there were no shouts “Oh, you...” (in my mind I had dozens of options starting with “bitch” and ending with something even less pleasing for the ear) and I wasn’t ready to his calmness. Yes, it was calmness, since I was very perceptive to the mood changes even if they were wordless. And the longer he kept calm, the more dismay I felt. What’s going on? Is he mocking me pretending to be all sweet in order to bring down an unexpected flurry of curses on me later?
“Carry on.” he said after a few seconds.
I got numb and slowly separated my sweaty palms.
When is the blaming going to start?
“What should I carry on with?”
“Carry on talking.”
I sighed, completely confused. Well, I came here to talk, so I will talk then.
“I stole the whips today and cut them up with an axe. I acted on my own and no one helped me.”
“Why?”
“Because ...” I frowned, not knowing whether I should tell him the real reasons.
“Because?” Hulk asked without changing the posture, remaining calm and a little tired.
“OK, because those poor workers don’t even have any hats on and they get heat stroke working under the sun. Is it hard to provide them with some paper hats which would cost peanuts?”
Feeling that I am getting away with my emotions I returned myself back on track, “And they get beaten up for no reason. Their backs are permanently wounded and if there were no whips for a few days, they wounds would get a chance to heal.”
After I threw my thoughts in his face, I cringed on the sofa so tense that my muscles hurt.
Hulk continued to be quiet but now his face looked slightly surprised, perhaps more due to me being so direct than my words. He leaned back in the chair and clasped his hands.
“And now you’ve come to confess?”
I didn’t reply; it didn’t make sense to confirm the obvious.
“So what made you admit everything?”
He did not seem to wait for an answer to the previous question but he did for this one because his eyes narrowed.
I remembered myself sitting in my room, plagued by doubts.
“I wouldn’t...” the words weren’t easy to come, “I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that other people suffer because of me. Twenty points is a lot; it means more working days for each person.”
I hesitated a little and then I added:
“I was too scared to go to Greg, that’s why I came here thinking it’ll be better this way.”
I felt that I was borderline complaining and stopped myself. I didn’t want to look pathetic and didn’t want him to think that I was weak begging for forgiveness.
I looked straight in Hulk’s face and said boldly:
“Take twenty points, but only from me.”
This time, his dark eyebrows sarcastically lifted.
“What a hero!”
I said nothing, just turned and looked away. The invisible clock was ticking somewhere, cutting the silence into the equal time intervals which were immediately drowning in the past.
“Answer another question, please.” Hulk broke the silence, “why were you winding Greg up by the cornfield today?”
Here we go!
As I recalled myself turning around and seeing Hulk standing behind me, catching my every word, I felt embarrassed again.
“No. No, no.”
Hulk frowned unkindly.
“No what?”
“I don’t want to answer to this question.”
“It’s not a request. If I ask you, you answer.”
“No, I won’t answer!”
Hulk just chuckled as his bright eyes shone against his tanned face.
“Then exactly in one minute I will call Greg and you will tell him everything.”
I shuddered, quickly forgot about my own pride and pleaded.
“Please, don’t call Greg! He’ll kill me, especially after the incident by the field...”
“Then be a good girl. You have one minute to decide which one of us you want to confess everything to - me or him.”
Hulk smiled, knowing perfectly well that he’d won this round on these conditions; however, instead of being angry about his cunning trick, I unexpectedly began admiring his face.... that triumphant expression that was shining on it. Moreover, I even caught myself thinking that I would confess anything to him, just for the opportunity to sit like this for longer - in a cosy room, on a comfortable couch, enjoying our conversation...
For a brief moment I felt a déjà vu and returned to the old days when I was outside the “Area 33” where there were normal human relationships - warmth, smiles, talks in the evening, tea or morning coffee, shopping trips together, touching hands and many heartfelt looks between the two people who did not need any words to understand each other.
He was looking at me, and I could not take my eyes off of him, fascinated by this moment when the false warmth like a comfort blanket covered me and I had no desire to throw it away.
I felt like something had changed inside of me - the nervousness of the last few hours dissolved and I stopped being so scared - completely. Perhaps, such a lack of fear was only appropriate for some mad or drug addicted people but I didn’t care. Instead of counting down the seconds of the minute that was given to me, I looked around slowly, almost gently, noticing the things I hadn’t noticed earlier such as a coffee cup near the laptop on the table, the box of cigars on the windowsill and Hulk’s sloppily thrown on the back of the chair beige shirt, as though it wasn’t HIS office but it was our house where we shared good and bad days together.
What’s wrong with me? Am I going mad? Have I lost the plot from the loneliness...?
My logic was hissing at me like a cat but I was sitting there and smiling, for some reason feeling rather serene and tranquil. Who knows why, but I didn’t feel lonesome anymore as I did all those days in Tally... and before Tally.
No, I was well aware that all this was just a temporary obsession - sitting in front of Hulk (Hulk! The one who took five points off my bracelet at the club!), and enjoying the fact that he had no idea about my feelings and couldn’t have guessed what a priceless gift he’d rewarded me with, even if it was for a few short seconds.
After I woke up from the sweet slumber, which I so unexpectedly descended into, I looked up and smiled.
“I will talk to you. There is no need for Greg.”
He looked at my smile (probably totally inappropriate right now, and I noticed a spark of curiosity in his eyes.
“I am glad you’ve made the right decision.”
“Could I get a cup of tea since this night is turning into a confession night?” I surprised myself with this but judging by the look on Hulk’s face not as surprised as he was by my request. But his answer was short and imperturbable.
“Yes, you can.”
He got up from his chair, walked over to the alcove located in between the book shelves and opened the door of the bar built into the wall. In addition to the various alcohol bottles of different shapes and contents, there was a kettle as well.
That’s where he gets his coffee from! It wouldn’t be as easy to run in the kitchen every time you need some hot water...
He unwrapped the tea pack and a couple of minutes later a fine china cup appeared in front of me, painted with gold flowers on a dark green background and a saucer from the same set. The aroma of lemon balm and some exotic fruit floated in the air.
How lovely!
Once again, I plunged into a pleasant atmosphere of pseudo comfort, brought the cup up to my lips and almost groaned with pleasure, taking the first sip. This tea was fabulous! Pure delicious taste, which only the best quality tea can have, was supplemented by an exquisite collection of spices and sweetness of the tropical island delicacies.
I wish I had a tea like that at home.
I was ready to tell him any stories all night long in return for just one sip of this drink......
“Well, you’ve got your tea now and I want to know why you were winding Greg up today?”
“I needed him to beat me up.”
Now Hulk was looking at me as if I was completely nuts.
“I either misheard it or I didn’t understand something... Did you say “beat you up”?”
“Yes.” I was openly enjoying his confusion. Confused Hulk - that was a show not everyone had the opportunity to see. “Yes, so he’d beat me up.”
“Why?”
“I was trying to find a way to get into the infirmary.”
“Weren’t there any other ways to do that?”
“If there were, I would’ve used them. But this crafty doctor is always there during the day and at night time there are guards hanging around.”
Hulk almost imperceptibly shook his head, as though he still didn’t dare to believe to what he’d just heard.
No wonder. Only a complete moron like me could come up with such ludicrous ideas... Normal people would regard them a total madness...
Despite the late hour and exhaustion, I smiled again. This whole situation would be quite funny if it wasn’t so sad but at least I had the opportunity to enjoy some great tea and Greg still hasn’t made an appearance which was a fantastic achievement in my opinion.
Without saying a word Hulk got up, went to the bar and took out a bottle with a long neck - scotch. He poured some in a glass, added a few ice cubes and returned to his chair.
“OK, let's start all over again. You were spurring Greg on, expecting him to beat you up so you could get into the infirmary. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And do you realise that he could have killed you with one strike?”
“Yes.”
“Yet, you took some risk. So, is there a good reason behind that?”
“Yes.” saying this word for the third time, I recalled a story from a book where one guy would get rid of a vicious curse casted on him by a witch, saying "yes" three times in a row. I wish I was that lucky although there was no hope to get rid my own troubles that easily.
“So what would have happened once you’d got into the infirmary?”
“I would’ve taken plasters, bandages, peroxide or perhaps other appropriate medications.”
“Appropriate for what?”
“For the quarry workers’ palms.”
“What?” blurted out Hulk quicker than he intended.
“Uh-huh.” I confirmed unflappably, slowly sipping tea, “every day I deliver the food to them and every day I see how hungry, ragged and barely alive they are. Their hands are all bruised from the picks and carts, they have terrible coughs and the barracks where they sleep is really drafty. They are so skinny that a slight breeze will make them snap. Is it that hard to provide them with some gloves? Those horrible scars on their hands will probably never heal!”
Hulk seemed as taken aback by my monologue as I was. Whether I was too nervous before coming here or I really was becoming crazy but I didn’t care about being punished anymore. Somebody eventually had to tell to this well-fed owner that not everybody is like him having an easy life in this five-star paradise hotel called “Desert Ranch”, goddamn it...
Hulk was slowly drinking his scotch, staring into my eyes, and I instead of being embarrassed was returning his look with a complete lack of emotion on my face.
“Maybe you’ll teach me how to run my business then?” his voice sounded threatening and he made clear emphasis on the word "my", obviously not used to being lectured, especially being lectured by a “slave”.
“No.” there wasn’t any aggression or accusation in my tone, “I'm just trying to do what I can. I want to help them but I don’t always know how. That’s why I came up with this stupid idea about Greg and the infirmary.
I turned away, feeling Hulk’s scrutinizing look on my face. For a while there was silence in the office and only his mumbling, "I can’t believe this...” hung helplessly in the air.
I uncertainly shrugged my shoulders as if trying to justify my own stupidity.
My eyes suddenly caught a book lying on the bedside table. An unusually thick hardcover and an old-looking book, but... Oh! Is that really?... I suddenly forgot where I was and what we were talking about, I jumped briskly rom my chair and ran to the table, picked up a thick tome and not being able to believe my own eyes, reverently ran the tips of my fingers over the letters repressed on the spine of the book - the ornate letters with an ancient gold serif and tricky interweaving.