Tomáš Zmeškal - A Love Letter in Cuneiform

“No, no,” the voice said. “Say three thousand three hundred thirty-three thrushes thrashing and so on … If you know the rest, then say it, so I know you aren’t German.”

“Three thousand three hundred and thirty-three thrushes thrashing through three thousand three hundred and thirty-three thorny thickets.”

“And what’re thrushes?” said the voice from above.

“What are thrushes?” said Josef. “They’re little birds that eat worms and insects, and they’re known for their melodic songs.”

“All right then. All right,” said the voice from above. “You can come up, but slow. Nice and slow, got it?” After a moment’s hesitation the voice added, “You can climb up that rope.” Josef didn’t trust him, so he just gripped the rope while he edged his way up with his legs spread against the walls of the shaft.

“Now,” said the voice from above, “one more time, tell me three hundred and thirty-three.”

“Yes, sir!” Josef bellowed. “Three thousand three hundred and thirty-three thrushes thrashing through three thousand three hundred and thirty-three thorny thickets!” Over and over and over until he reached the top of the shaft. As the lip of the well came within reach, Josef’s heart was pumping all his blood into his ears. He couldn’t hear anything but his own boiling blood. Nothing but blood. He tried to be alert and on guard, but by that point it was beyond him. He stuck out his head and rolled his body over the lip of the well. He dropped on the ground and took a quick look around. A tall old man walked slowly toward him, holding a double-barreled rifle aimed at Josef’s stomach. He had gray hair and glasses, and a tiny little monkey sitting on his shoulder, like the one Josef had seen in the forest that set off his panic attack. The monkey had great big red childlike eyes, and its fingers were unbelievably long. It licked the index finger on one hand while with the other it gripped the old man’s neck. It looked at Josef. Josef looked at the rifle, then at the monkey. The old man held the gun and looked at Josef.

“So you’re Czech,” the old man said.

“’Course I am, what else would I be?” said Josef. The old man studied him warily. The monkey went on licking its finger.

“I’ve seen that before!” Josef blurted.

“What?” the old man asked.

“That,” Josef said, pointing to the monkey. “I saw that monkey.”

“It’s an ape, not a monkey,” the old man said. “What are you doin’ here?”

“I was mushroom hunting,” Josef said.

“What would you be doin’ that for?” the old man asked. “There’s a war on and it’s May!”

“Well, not really, but I was walking around. Do you want to kill me?”

“No,” replied the old man.

“Then why did you throw me down the well?”

“I thought you were one of them.”

“Who?” Josef said.

“You know, them,” said the old man.

“I have no idea who you’re talking about,” said Josef.

“You know, them,” said the old man. “Those runaway soldiers wanderin’ around, tryin’ to get to the Americans. Had some problems with ’em in the next village over.”

“But I’m Czech, sir.”

“Well, all right, I know that now,” the old man said.

“So why do you want to kill me?” Josef shouted.

“I don’t want to kill you.”

“Then why are you pointing that rifle at me?” Josef shouted again.

“Don’t worry about it. Doesn’t shoot anyway,” the old man said, “and quit shoutin’ and come inside.” As he turned around and walked toward the building with his rifle, the monkey on his shoulder turned and stared back at Josef with its enormous eyes.

“C’mon in!” the old man shouted to Josef.

“I’ll be right there, thank you,” said Josef. He quickly turned and dashed toward the fence, unbuttoning his fly as he ran. He let loose before he even came to a stop. Hearing the sound of Josef urinating, the old man stopped on the steps, turned, and looked at him. The monkey on his shoulder also turned to look. The old man shook his head in disgust, waited for Josef to button his fly and come into the house, gestured to a chair, and Josef sat down.

“Forgive me, boy,” the old man said. “I thought you were one of those soldiers, you know.” Josef shook his head. “There was shootin’ in the woods yesterday and day before.” Josef shook his head again. “We was watchin’ you, ever since you came runnin’ out of the woods. Me and him,” the old man said, nodding to the monkey. “He don’t miss a thing,” he said. “As soon as something starts to happen, he gets nervous.”

“How did he get here?” Josef said, swallowing several times. “I mean it’s impossible. I saw giraffes in the woods — two giraffes, a rhinoceros, and three spiny anteaters. We aren’t in Africa.”

The old man cracked a smile. “So that’s why you were all green and runnin’ like that. That’s how come,” the old man gave a laugh.

“And that thing there was looking at me in the woods,” Josef pointed to the monkey.

“Now hold on there, boy. That ain’t no thing. That’s Hank.”

“Hank?” said Josef. “Yep, Hank,” the old man said. “And if you saw more than one of ’em out in the forest, that was his lady.”

“His lady?” Josef said. “But how did they get here? How did that happen?”

“You’re not from around here, are you?” the old man asked.

“No, but how did they get here?” Josef said.

“Cause if you was from around here, you’d know the Count had a collection of animals up at the castle. Like his own private zoo.”

“Zoo?” Josef said. “That’s right, zoo,” the old man repeated. “When he was young, he went all over the world studyin’ animals, and every year he’d have a few of ’em brought back home.”

“So but how did they end up in the woods?” Josef asked.

“Beats me. But the folks in the next village over say the Count must be dead, since he never would have let ’em go. The whole war he always made sure they got fed somehow. Said a man can take care of himself, but not a giraffe in the Czech lands.”

“So what all did he have? What kind of animals?”

“Well, one time he had a lion, but he passed away before the war,” the old man said.

Josef hemmed and hawed a moment. “So how am I going to get back to my family? My mother and father and Květa must be out of their minds with fear, but I’m not going back through those woods.”

“Well then, I s’pose you’ll have to stay here,” the old man said. “Till it blows over. You’re just lucky you landed on giraffes and rhinos. Least they don’t carry guns.” The man got up and put a tin can on the stove. When the water started to boil, he poured it over some chicory, and handed the mug to Josef. Josef took a sip.

“Should I go?” Josef asked after a while.

“Well, no one’s askin’ you to stay. On the other hand, there’s not much place to go. We were scared, too,” the old man said. “Me and Hank.”

Josef didn’t know how to answer, so he just grunted and nodded. As he finished his chicory coffee, he realized it was the best he’d had all war, since 1939. He was about to thank the old man but got distracted by the monkey sitting on the table watching him. It took a few steps toward him, flared its nostrils, and snorted in and out, sniffing him from a distance.

“Go on, shoo,” Josef growled.

The old man looked in the monkey’s direction. “You don’t smell too good to him either, you know.” He paused, then added, “S’pose I oughta get you some bandages, make sure that don’t get infected.”

“Mm,” Josef said. The old man went into the next room. There was the sound of tearing, then he came back holding a soft cloth with a large wet spot that smelled sweetly of alcohol. He nodded to Josef and Josef laid his hands on the table. He winced as the old man began to clean the abrasions, but the smell was comforting.