The Extinct

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.”

Eric could see an old building that looked like a destroyed castle next to the shore. Jalani noticed his curiosity and said, “It is a fort. Four hundred years old and built by Muslims. It has a history of violence and death. People here say it curses its owner.”

“It doesn’t look so bad.”

Thomas answered, “Nothing on the outside tells us of what is on the inside.”

Soon they were off the highway and in downtown Kavali, a place Jalani called the old part of Kavali. The architecture was a mixture of Hindu and Arabic and many of the merchants crowding the narrow, winding streets wore traditional Hindu garb. The buildings didn’t seem to go above four or five stories and they were mostly a dull white with various colored awnings and flags from nations across the world hanging over windows.

“It has always been like this,” Jalani said. “Children come here and sell things made for the tourists.”

“What do they make?”

“Little shapes out of wood. Animal shapes. The tourists buy it for their children. Hyderabad—that is the capital—it is nice too. But it does not have the same feeling of Kavali.”

The car stopped in front of a large square building with a British flag hanging down from the roof. The driver shook Thomas’s hand and they said good bye as everyone climbed out.

The weather was a moist heat. Wet and relentless. It made it somewhat difficult to breathe and Eric regretted wearing jeans today. He grabbed his bag and followed Thomas into the building.

From the uniforms the front desk staff were wearing it was obvious it was a hotel. Bagboys promptly took their bags and Thomas tipped them. He motioned for Eric to step outside with him.

Thomas stood by the door and took out his pipe, lighting it and inhaling the tobacco deeply before speaking. “There is something about India that can penetrate the soul. It’s a mystical place, boy. Life teams here like nowhere else on earth.” He took a puff of the pipe and looked back to Jalani who was speaking with the front desk receptionist. “The national language is Telugu, but everyone speaks English. You should have no trouble getting around.”

“You leaving somewhere?”

“Um hm, I have business to attend to tonight. We’ll be traveling with three clients and I have to organize their arrival. Jalani will stay with you and show you the sites.” He pulled out some rupees and handed them to Eric. “Relax and enjoy yourself; this city can be quite fun. I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh, I nearly forgot.” Thomas took a crumpled envelope out of his back pant pocket. “A letter from your mother. She asked that I give it to you.”

Eric took the letter and watched as Thomas walked away. He leaned against a wall and tore open the envelope. Inside were two sheets of paper in his mother’s soft handwriting.



Dear Eric,

I’m sorry I couldn’t see you in person. The police here call me every few months or talk to one of my friends about you. Jeff’s death was a big deal after you left. It was in all the papers and Channel 5 even did a half hour thing on it. You’re only one suspect. Jeff had lots a enemies from his life. They even arrested someone. He was a drug dealer Jeff was using to get drugs. They let him go though. We all miss you here. Jason’s doing very well. He’s met a girl and they’re going to be married. I heard from Marcy at the corner grocery that the girl got pregnant and they have to get married, but I don’t know. He seems happy. He comes by and checks to make sure I’m okay now and then. He always tells me to tell you that he understands why you did what you did and that you were the best friend he ever had. He’s a nice boy. I’ve met someone too Eric. You’d really like him, his name’s Samuel and he owns a hardware store in Nashua. I’ve told him all about you and he wants to meet you someday and take you fishing. He doesn’t have any kids of his own but I think he’d be a good father.

Anyway, I really hope you’re doing well. I hope you understand why I sent Thomas to help you. He’s a good man and was a good friend of your father’s, listen to what he says. I want to see you soon. Samuel says he wants to take me to Germany, where his family’s from. Maybe my family could be there too?

Love always,

Carol



P.S. If you need any money, tell Thomas and he’ll get in touch with me.

Eric lowered the letter, tears filling his eyes. He folded it up and stuffed it in his pocket. A small boy was watching him from the street. Eric smiled and the boy smiled back before running off.