Victor Methos - The Extinct

The days slowly melted into each other; images and sounds and sensations. Thomas or Jalani would bring food and water and juice in the morning and at night, but otherwise they kept away. On several occasions Eric had screamed himself hoarse but no one from the hotel came.

He spent his days watching television or staring out the balcony doors. He woke once to find a few books next to the nightstand, some Hemingway and a dog-eared copy of The Iliad, but he was usually too sick to concentrate long enough to read. The apartment stunk like a sewer, but after a couple weeks the craving started to subside. He thought about shooting up but it wasn’t as urgent anymore. But he had a new enemy to contend with as well: boredom.

Eric got out of bed to go to the bathroom one night and saw Thomas sitting in a chair with his pipe looking out at the city. The gray smoke formed a tunnel above him and slowly made its way to the open doors of the balcony and out into the night air. “How do you feel?” Thomas asked. “I didn’t need to be saved.” Thomas gave a wise grin. “You’re welcome.”

Eric urinated in the bathroom and came back out, sitting in the living room and leaning against a wall. “When you gonna let me go?” “A couple more days. You look much better.” “You know I’ll just use again as soon as you let me outta here. There’s nothing you can do to stop me.” Thomas shrugged. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. I’ll at least know I did all I could.” “I don’t suppose I could have some of that?” Thomas looked down at the pipe, and then handed it to Eric. “It’s tobash caruit from Herat. A very special kind of tobacco.” Eric took a puff and felt the smoke going down into his lungs, silky with almost a cherry flavor. “It’s good.” Thomas nodded as he took the pipe back. They sat in silence, enjoying the smell of the smoke mingling with the salty air. “You said you knew my mother,” Eric said. “I did.” “How?” “We were lovers, a long time ago. Before she met your father.” “What happened?”

Thomas handed the pipe back to Eric. “I was always away on my hunts; it’s no life for marriage. Your mother and I parted ways and she met your father. I came back to the States after a particularly long tour and wanted her back, but she was already married by then. But, she did introduce me to your father and we became friends. One of my most loyal clients as well.” Thomas put a little more tobacco into the pipe. “The animal that killed your father is becoming quite the legend.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s killed at least thirty others, mostly children from the more remote villages who wander off. I’ve been hired to kill it. I want you to come with me.”

“Taking me prisoner isn’t the best way to ask. Besides, I don’t know anything about hunting.”

“I assure you, you don’t need to; I’ll be doing the hunting. But just being out there, living on the plains and in the jungle out of a tent, it’s purifying. It cleanses you.” He took a long pull from the pipe, his emerald eyes focused on Eric. “Do you need to be cleansed?”

Eric looked away without saying anything. Thomas rose, and left.

Jalani brought breakfast for him the next day: poached eggs and toast with orange juice. Eric ate on the floor of the living room as Jalani sat on the couch, her smooth legs neatly crossed, revealing muscular thighs.

“Do you speak English?” Eric asked, taking a bite of egg.

Jalani stared in silence, piercing Eric, looking through him rather than at him. Despite her cold behavior she had warm eyes.

“Are you married?” Eric asked. “Kids?” He guzzled some orange juice and wiped at his lips with the back of his bare arm. “I used to want kids. Lots of ‘em. Didn’t really work out that way though.” “I do not have kids,” Jalani said, her voice metallic from disuse. “But I have brothers and sisters.” Eric was surprised at an answer and didn’t respond immediately. He took another sip of juice and then said, “How many?” “Twenty.” “Really? Your mother must be a tiger.” Jalani gave a quizzical look. “No,” Eric said, “it’s an expression… just saying that she must be strong, like a tiger.” “She was very strong. That is why my father traveled so much.” Eric grinned. “Your English is good.” “I studied in school. Thomas has taken me to London many times as well.” He finished his breakfast and leaned back against the wall.

“The Bushman in my country believe,” Jalani said, “that when a lion kills a man, the lion takes the soul of the man and it corrupts him. The lion is pure until the soul of man enters him. He does not know of good and evil until he has eaten a man. When this happens, the lion becomes evil because it cannot tell the difference. It will always hunt men.” “Are you talking about the animal that killed my father? Thomas said it’s killed thirty people.” Jalani scoffed. “Is that what he said?” “Why? It’s not true?”

“Thomas is a good hunter and a man of the world. But he only believes what his eyes tell him. He has no imagination so he cannot believe that an animal can become evil. He says thirty, but I have seen animals kill many more. A lion near my village killed nearly two hundred before it was shot.” “Wow, that’s probably some sort of record.” “Record?” “Yeah, like the most any animal’s ever killed.”

“No, there have been others. But this one in India will soon surpass them. People that have seen it say that his eyes glow red in the night. They think it is the devil.” “Do you think that?” “No. Not the devil. But it is evil. And it needs to die.” “Are you going with Thomas to kill it?” “Yes, and so will you.” “I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“No,” Jalani said confidently, “you will go.” She rose and gave Eric a warm smile. “I knew your father. He was a good man. I see that goodness in you too.” She shut the door and Eric was left alone again in the ever shrinking room.

Thomas came later in the afternoon with a bag full of new clothes and some shoes. Eric was lying in bed watching television. Thomas walked to him and took a key out of his pocket, undoing the cuff chaining him to the bed.

Eric began rubbing the skin on his wrist. It was tender and moist and he could still feel the weight of the cuff clinging to him. “Thanks.”

Thomas nodded and laid the bag of clothing down on the bed. “Shower and dress, we’re leaving here today,” Thomas said as he walked off.

“The hotel?”

“No,” Thomas said from the front room, “Thailand. And I took the rest of your money and donated it to a nearby orphanage. I knew you wouldn’t mind.”

Eric looked over at the clothes. He could leave right now if he wanted, some of his strength had returned to him and he could probably make it away from Thomas if he protested. But the truth was this place had been hell. He’d seen things he could never have imagined seeing, and unwittingly become a part of them. That was the most sinister aspect of evil, he decided. That it could pose as necessity and disarm you. Before you even knew what was happening, you would be fully in its embrace.

Eric took the clothes, and walked into the bathroom.

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.