"Why? Who is the pilot?"
Henry giggled, and slapped Kenner on the back. "I am!"
"Well, then, we should go."
They all started down the road, away from the airfield. The jungle rose up on both sides of the road. The air buzzed with the sound of cicadas. Evans looked back with longing at the beautiful white Gulf-stream jet, poised on the runway against a blue sky. The pilots in their white shirts and black trousers were checking the wheels. He wondered if he would ever see the airplane again.
Kenner was saying, "And we heard, Henry, some people were killed?"
Henry made a face. "No just killed, Jon. Olpela. Ya?"
"So we heard."
"Ya. Distru. "
So it was true. "The rebels did it?"
Henry nodded. "Oh! this newchif, him name Sambuca, like a drink. Don't ask why this name. Him crazy man, Jon. Longlong man tru. Everything back toolpela for dis guy. Old ways are better. Allatime allatime. "
"Well, the old ways are better," Ted Bradley said, trudging along behind, "if you ask me."
Henry turned. "You got cell phones, you got computers, you got antibiotics, medicines, hospitals. And you say the old ways are better?"
"Yes, because they are," Bradley said. "They were more human, they allowed more of the human texture to life. Believe me, if you ever had a chance to experience these so-called modern miracles yourself, you would know that they're not so great--"
"I got a degree at the University of Melbourne," Henry said. "So I have some familiarity."
"Oh, well, then," Bradley said. And under his breath, he muttered, "Might have told me. Asshole."
"By the way," Henry said, "take my advice, don't do that here. Don't talk under your breath."
"Why not?"
"In this country, somepelas think it means you've been possessed by a demon and they'll get scared. And they might kill you."
"I see. Charming."
"So, in this country, if you have something to say, you speak up!"
"I'll remember that."
Sarah walked alongside Bradley, but she was not listening to the conversation. Henry was a character, caught between worlds, sometimes speaking in an Oxbridge accent, sometimes dropping into Pidgin. It didn't bother her.
She was looking at the jungle. The air on the road was hot and still, trapped between the huge trees that rose up on both sides of the path. The trees were forty, fifty feet high, covered in twisted vines. And at ground level, in the darkness beneath the canopy above, huge ferns grew so thickly they presented an impenetrable barrier, a solid green wall.
She thought: You could walk five feet into that and get lost forever. You'd never find your way out again.
Along the road were the rusted hulks of long-abandoned cars, windshields smashed, chassis crumpled and corroded brown and yellow. As she walked past she saw ripped upholstery, old dashboards with clocks and speedometers ripped out, leaving gaping holes.
They turned right onto a side path and she saw the helicopter ahead. She gasped. It was beautiful, painted green with a crisp white stripe, the metal blades and struts gleaming. Everybody commented on it.
"Yes, the outside is good," Henry said. "But I think the inside, the engine, maybe is not so good." He wiggled his hand. "So so."
"Great," Bradley said. "Speaking for myself, I'd prefer it the other way around."
They opened the doors to get in. In the back were stacks of wooden crates, with sawdust. They smelled of grease. "I got the supplies you wanted," he said to Kenner.
"And enough ammunition?"
"Oh ya. All things you asked for."
"Then we can go," Kenner said.
In the back, Sarah buckled her belt. She put on headphones. The engines whined, and the blades spun faster. The helicopter shuddered as it started to lift off. "We have too many people," Henry said, "so we will have to hope for the best! Cross your fingers!"
And giggling maniacally, he lifted off into the blue sky.
TO RESOLUTION
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 14
9:02 A. M.
The jungle slid beneath them, mile after mile of dense canopy forest. In places, wisps of mist clung to the trees, particularly at the higher altitudes. Sarah was surprised at how mountainous the island was, how rugged the terrain. She saw no roads at all. From time to time, they passed over a small village in a jungle clearing. Otherwise, nothing but miles of trees. Henry was flying due north, intending to drop them off along the coast a few miles west of Resolution Bay.
"Charming villages," Ted Bradley said, as they flew over another one. "What do the people grow here?"
"Nothing. Land's no good here. They work the copper mines," Henry said.
"Oh, that's too bad."
"Not if you live here. Biggest money they ever saw. People kill to work in the mines. What I mean to say is, they kill. Some murders occur every year."