Alex Garland - The Beach

'I've got to get this water to Françoise,' I said coldly, but didn't move. 'I said I'd only be two minutes. I've already been longer.'

Bugs opened his mouth, maybe to reply, and a slimy bubble of spit popped over his lips. This time I did laugh. 'Look at yourself,' I heard myself say. 'Who the fuck do you think's going to clear that mess up?'

Suddenly a hand grabbed my shoulder.

'My God, Richard! What's the matter with you? Why aren't you helping him?'

I turned and saw Cassie staring at me. She looked very angry, but when our eyes met the anger quickly changed to something else. Something like concern, I noted vacantly, or alarm.

'Richard?'

'Yes?'

'Are you OK?'

'I'm fine.'

'You...' She paused.' ...Come on. We've got to get him outside at once.'

'I need to take this water to—'

'You need to get Bugs outside.'

I rubbed my eyes and wished they would stop throbbing.

' Now, Richard .'

'Yes... Right.' I put the pitcher down, a safe distance from the puddle, and went to help her lift Bugs.

He was heavy, being so broad, and he made no effort to walk so we practically had to drag him along the ground. Luckily one of the Swedes, Sten, arrived before we'd got halfway to the door. With his assistance we got Bugs outside and over to one of the diverted streams, where we dropped him so the current could wash him down.

Sten agreed to stay with Bugs—probably a relief after seeing what was going on in the longhouse - and Cassie and I headed back. I wanted to jog but she made me stop so she could feel my forehead.

'What's the matter?' I asked testily.

'...I thought you might have a temperature.'

'Do I?'

'You're a little hot... but no, thank God. We can't have anyone else getting ill.' She gave my hand a squeeze. 'We've got to be strong.'

'Uh-huh.'

'...We've got to keep calm.'

'Sure, Cassie. I know.'

'OK...'

'I've got to get the water to Françoise.'

'Yes,' she said, and I thought she might be frowning, but in the darkness it was impossible to tell. We started walking again. 'Of course.'

Over the time I'd been away, Françoise's condition had got worse. She was still talking but she'd deteriorated into a dreamy, feverish state, and her cheeks were burning up. I had to prop her up against my lap so I could feed the water into her mouth without her choking, and even then she lost most of the liquid down her chest.

'Sorry I took so long,' I said, as I dried her down with one of her T-shirts. 'Bugs was all over the place. Had to deal with him.'

'Richard,' she whispered, then said something in French that I couldn't understand.

I made a guess at the meaning.' ...I'm fine. I missed out on the squid.'

'Étienne...'

'He's here, right next to you... sleeping it off.'

Her head twitched to the side. 'I love you,' she muttered drowsily.

I blinked, thinking for the slightest second that she might be talking to me. Then I caught myself, seeing the direction that her head had pointed, and realized her words were for Étienne. But in a way it didn't matter. It felt nice just to have heard her say it. I smiled and stroked her hair, and her hand reached up and closed weakly around mine.

For the next five minutes I stayed as still as I could, supporting her shoulders on my crossed legs. Then, when her breathing had become slower and heavier, I eased myself backwards and gently lowered her on to the sheets. They were a little damp from where the water had spilled, but it couldn't be helped.

It isn't something I feel I ought to justify, but I'll justify it anyway. I was thinking about the time I'd had a fever. Françoise had given me a kiss so I gave her one too, in exactly the same affectionate spirit. And I wouldn't have called it a kiss that was open to interpretation. It was straightforward; on the cheek, not the lips, unambiguous.

Technically, if you can get technical about such things, maybe I did hold it for a couple of seconds too long. I do remember noticing how soft and smooth her skin was. In the middle of that hellish night, with all the vomiting and groaning and flickering candle-flames, I wasn't expecting to find sweetness. It took me by surprise, that little oasis. I dropped my guard and closed my eyes, drifting a few moments, just for the chance to block the bad stuff out.

But when I pulled back from the kiss and saw the way Étienne was staring at me, I knew he hadn't seen it in the same way.

There was a short silence, as you might imagine, then he said, 'What were you doing?'

'...Nothing.'

'You were kissing Françoise.'

I shrugged. 'So?'

'What do you mean, 'so'?'

'I mean, so?' If I sounded irritable, it was nothing more than exhaustion, and maybe a hangover from the business with Bugs. 'I gave her a kiss on the cheek. You've seen me do that before, and you've seen her kiss me too.'

'She has never kissed you like that.'

'On the cheek?'

'For so long!'

'You've got this wrong.'

He sat up in bed. 'So what should I think?'

I sighed. The pulsing behind my eyes was starting again, turning into a sharp ache. 'I'm very tired,' I said. 'You're very ill. It's affecting you.'

'What should I think?' he repeated.

'I don't know. Anything. I kissed her because I was worried, and because I care about her... Just the same as I'm worried about you.'

He didn't say anything.

I tried a joke. 'If I give you a kiss, will that even things up?'

Étienne paused a bit longer, and finally nodded. 'I am sorry, Richard,' he said, but his voice was flat and I knew he didn't mean it. 'You are right. I am ill and it is affecting me. But I .can look after her now. Maybe some others need your help.'

'Yeah. I'm sure they do.' I stood up. 'If you need anything, give me a shout.'

'Yes.'

I glanced back at Françoise, who, thankfully, was still fast asleep. Then I began walking back down the longhouse, keeping to the side so I didn't get roped into helping Moshe as he shovelled away Bugs' shit.

Good Morning

I slept in the clearing. I would have slept there even if I hadn't thought it best to stay away from Étienne. I'd lost my sense of smell and become selective in which moans I chose to hear, but I couldn't stand the candles. Their accumulated heat was so strong that the ceiling was wet with condensation. The drips fell like a light rain through clouds of waxy fumes, and by midnight there wasn't a dry square-inch in the longhouse. That aside, Gregorio was in my bed. I'd moved him there so he could get away from Jesse, who'd had the same incontinence problem as Bugs.

The last thing I remember before falling asleep was Sal's voice. She'd recovered enough to walk around and was calling Keaty's name. I could have told her he was down on the beach, but I decided not to. There was something ominously controlled about her tone. It was the way a parent might call for a kid, trying to draw them out of their hiding-place in order to give them a bollocking. After a few minutes I felt her torch shining through my eyelids and she asked me if I knew where he was. I didn't move, and eventually she moved away.

The only other disruption that night was the sound of someone crying nearby. I tried to make myself get up and check on who it was, but it turned out I was too tired to care.

Jed woke me around six thirty, with a bowl of rice and a boiled sweet, one of the last from Ko Pha-Ngan.

'Good morning,' he said, violently shaking my shoulders. 'Have you eaten yet?'

'No,' I mumbled.

'What did I tell you last night?'

'...Eat.'

'So.' He hauled me to a sitting position and put the bowl in my lap. The single sweet, a lurid chemical green, looked ridiculous perched on the mound of sticky grains. 'Eat this now.'