Where the Dead Live Page 9

  Her eyes burned with hot tears. She was going to lose him.

  "What about extra money?" she asked, thinking about the visa. "If I pay extra money, can I go tomorrow?"

  Dang picked the pen back up and turned his attention back to his fiddling. Sasha reached across the desk and grabbed his hand, forcing him to look up.

  "Please," she begged. "Please help me. It's a matter of life or death. I have to leave tomorrow."

  Dang gave her a tight smile and picked up the phone.

  "I must make calls. Come back in one hour."

  "Thank you. Thank you so much."

  She shook his hand furiously. Dang took his hand back and raised it as though to dismiss her.

  Sasha pushed her chair back. She stood, heaving her backpack onto her back and picked up her room key.

  "Thank you," she said again, but Dang was already talking rapid Thai on the phone. He didn’t even acknowledge her, so she turned and walked back through the guesthouse.

  Behind the reception desk was the flight of stairs leading to the rooms. Attached to the wall at the bottom of the stairs was a notice listing room numbers and their coordinating floors. Sasha glanced at the large wooden tag attached to her room key. The number seventy-four was carved into it.

  She correlated the room number to the right floor and groaned. Eight flights of stairs with her backpack; she would never make it. Sasha glanced around hoping they’d installed a lift since her last stay. She wasn’t surprised to see they hadn’t. The girl behind reception caught her eye and gestured up the stairs. Sasha smiled weakly and nodded.

  "Okay," she said to herself. "Come on feet."

  Sasha reached her floor, the thirty kilos on her back taking its toll. The humidity, combined with exertion, caused beads of sweat to drip from her face into her cleavage. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand; the salt stinging her eyes.

  Her chest heaved as her lungs labored over the effort of breathing through the thick and cloying heat. She paused at the top of the stairs, hanging on to the railing to stop her legs from collapsing beneath her.

  The long flight and lack of sleep were also taking a toll. Sasha glanced up to see another, smaller notice pointing her toward her room number. She forced her legs to move and headed down the narrow hallway. The cheap linoleum floor squeaked beneath her flip-flops as she walked down the corridor and located her room.

  The room was nothing more than a square box with a window looking out onto another corridor. The only item of furniture was the bed. The narrow, hard bunk looked as though it should belong in a prison cell, but Sasha had never seen anything so inviting. She flicked the switch for the overhead fan and flung herself down.

  Almost asleep with her eyes open, Sasha stared at the fan washing tepid air over her. The rapid spinning of the fan blades caused the whole contraption to swing ominously and Sasha imagined the ensuing carnage if it broke loose.

  The imagery woke her up.

  Her stomach grumbled loudly. She remembered her promise of noodles after she had checked in, but her skin was covered in a film of dirt from traveling. She unpacked her toiletries and towel and made her way back down the hall to the showers. The doors she passed on the way were identical. Muted music blared from one behind one of them.

  Sasha smiled a hello at a young couple who held hands as they walked toward her. They nodded back before brushing past. The sight of the couple evoked a pang of loneliness and she suddenly missed Nick. She didn’t want to be here alone.

  Three basic, clean showers were lined up, the toilets and sinks in separate cubicles next door. Each door held a warning about peeping Toms.

  Sasha rolled her eyes. Nothing changed.

  The cold water was a relief from the heat. The grime and sleep washed away, and she left the shower both refreshed and famished.

  Food first, she thought and then she would find out about her visa and ride for tomorrow.

  Sasha dressed quickly and trotted down the stairs faster than she’d made it up. She stepped out in the hazy Bangkok sunshine and smiled to herself. Glancing around, she allowed memories of her time here to wash over her like the heat rising from the street. She could barely believe she was back.

  During the day, the streets of Bangkok bustled with life, filled with an eclectic mix of tourists, businessmen and locals; but at night, the city showed its true colors. In the evening, the city became an adult’s fairground. Elephants walked the street begging for the peanuts their owners sold to tourists. Old VW vans, their roofs removed, were transformed into street bars selling cheap shots and cocktails, while the lady-boys danced in them as if they were on floats in a carnival. Carts trundled around the street selling fried crickets, cockroaches and even scorpions for people to snack on.

  The recollections made Sasha's smile blossom and she looked forward to the evening ahead. Any doubts she’d had about seeing Nick again were pushed to the farthest corner of her heart.

  Chapter Three

  A Chance Meeting

  "Hey, mister! You still want to go tomorrow?"

  Startled, Josh Thomas looked up from his paperback. A young Thai girl stood above him, smiling. He recognized her as the daughter of Mr. Kim, the man who ran the guesthouse where he was staying.

  "I'm sorry?” he said. “What did you say?"

  "My father say bus leave tomorrow now. You can go if want."

  "Really?" Josh said, surprised.

  Neither he nor his fellow travelers had been able to work out why no buses were available on Saturday.

  "But I’ve already bought a ticket for the day after," he said.

  "No problem. Just change ticket, no more money."

  "Great!" Josh smiled at her. "Do I need to tell your father?"

  "No, no," she answered. "I will tell him. Bus leave six o'clock tomorrow morning."

  "Okay. Thanks."

  She gave him a little bow and ran off.

  Josh settled back in his seat. He picked his book up, but didn’t read any more. Instead, he stared at the words.

  To leave tomorrow suited Josh. He was on a bit of a whirlwind trip of Southeast Asia. A year ago he’d bought an 'around-the-world' ticket. The ticket allowed him a certain number of flights within a year. Unfortunately, he only backpacked through South America before moving on to New Zealand, where he met a local girl called Kyla.

  Josh moved into Kyla's flat within a matter of weeks, but things didn’t pan out as he’d hoped. It soon became clear they weren't as compatible as he first thought.

  Josh cringed at the memory.

  He pushed a hand through his scruffy dark hair and shifted in his seat, trying to get more comfortable. With his left hand, he rubbed at the swirls and lines of the half-sleeve of tattoos etched into the skin of his opposite arm. His book remained open, but unread.

  He’d been stupid. Hoping he’d found his home, the place he finally belonged, he’d jumped into the relationship feet first.

  They’d barely known each other when they moved in together. The things Josh found exciting about Kyla—the partying, the reckless sense of humor and unpredictability—quickly wore thin. He longed to be settled, but that seemed to be the last thing Kyla wanted.

  One night she went out without him and didn’t come home until late the next morning, reeking of booze, stoned out of her head and stinking of sex. When he asked her where she’d been, she laughed at him and told him to mind his own fucking business.

  What happened next was the worst thing Josh had ever done. The memory clutched at his throat, leaving him breathless. It stirred something dark inside him and he cringed.

  Josh pushed the memory away, not wanting to relive the experience.

  After that, he left. There was no other choice. The confrontation revealed a part of him he never knew existed and it scared him. He didn’t want to become that person and he needed to get away as quickly as possible.

  Doing what he always did when he lost himself—when he didn’t know where life should be taking him—he we
nt back on the road.

  Josh’s funds were now running low and he only had three flights left on his ticket. He decided to use one to fly from New Zealand to Bangkok. From Bangkok he would travel overland through Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam. This plan allowed him to see as much of the continent as his lack of time and money permitted. He could then fly from Vietnam back to Bangkok and finally back to London.

  Because of his tight schedule, gaining this day made all the difference. It meant an extra day exploring the Cambodian temples of Angkor. A day that would otherwise have been wasted hanging out in the numerous Thai bars lining the Khao San Road.

  The guesthouse owner’s sudden change of mind still puzzled Josh. Mr. Kim had been insistent, aggressive almost, when Josh asked him for a ticket to Siem Reap for Saturday. Arguing had not gotten Josh anywhere and he’d thought a flicker of fear had gone through Mr. Kim’s eyes.

  Well, whatever the problem, it must have been sorted now. He would need to watch what he drank tonight if he had a six a.m. start.

  How strange to think he would be back in London in a few weeks. This year away felt like a lifetime. His life back in London seemed unreal, disjointed from him somehow. His past life was almost a dream and his only real life, the one he spent traveling.

  He wondered if he’d settle back into a 'normal' routine back in London or if he would get itchy feet. Josh liked the idea of having a base again, an actual home rather than a temporary pit stop. He missed having his own things around him, having the comfort of routine and being able to sleep in his own bed. He carried all his possessions in his backpack, most of them battered and worn.

  The idea of a job—a nine-to-five in an office—didn’t fill Josh with enthusiasm. He’d worked in New Zealand, but only part-time jobs in the bars Kyla's family owned. The money just about kept his head above water. He wouldn’t be in such a good position back in London. Friends had agreed to let him stay in their spare room for a few weeks, or at least until he got himself sorted. His background was in IT and there was still plenty of need for someone with his skills so Josh didn't think he would find too much difficulty in finding work. He found the idea suffocating, but he needed to get on with his life; he couldn't wander the earth forever.

  Later that evening, Josh found himself sitting in a restaurant nursing an ice-cold beer, despite his earlier good intentions, and pushing rice around his plate with his fork. Like most of the restaurants on the Khao San Road, it opened out onto the street. So many chairs, tables and people littered the area, he struggled to tell where the road ended and the restaurant started.

  Loud music filled the restaurant and even the people sitting at the roadside tables had to raise their voices to be heard by friends and family, sitting only feet away. Josh thought the music to be up-to-date chart songs from back home, until he realized they were actually Thai covers.

  He smiled to himself as two girls, both in their early twenties, jumped up and started to dance around their table. Both of the girls were pretty, but had masked their appearances with nose and lip rings; one even had bright pink hair. Before long, a group of young men leapt to their feet to join them.

  Other diners started to clap in time with the music. The girls twirled, wriggled and raised their hands in the air; responding to the attention of their fellow dinners.

  Josh's smile turned to laughter. He looked around at the happy faces of the different nationalities present, trying to imprint the scene upon his memory like a photograph.

  Someone caught his attention and, for a moment, the noise and laughter of the restaurant faded into the background.

  A young woman sat alone in the middle of the madness and seemed oblivious to it. Her long, dark hair hung down one side of her face. The fingers of her left hand absently twirled and twisted it. Her other hand held her fork, but she stared down at her plate of rice without lifting any of the food to her mouth.

  Josh watched as the girl gave her head a slight shake and then looked up, as though remembering where she was. Her face broke into a smile and she started to clap, joining in with the rest of the restaurant.

  The song ended and the pierced pair took a bow to their audience before sitting back down. They laughed at each other and hid their faces in their hands in sudden mock shyness. Josh glanced back over at the girl who had caught his attention, wanting to go over and speak to her. With the entertainment over, she’d picked up a book and had her face hidden in its pages. It was impossible for Josh to make eye contact with her.

  What was he thinking anyway? The last thing he needed right now was to be distracted from the rest of his trip by another woman.

  Before Josh could give the idea any more thought, someone dragged back the chair opposite. A large figure of a man sat down, completely blocking his view.

  A hugely overweight man sat across the table. Flesh fell in folds over the neck of his t-shirt and his belly strained against the thin material. Small dark eyes that looked as though they’d been squashed into his face as an afterthought peered at Josh.

  "All right, mate!" the man said, almost shouting over the music. "Thought you looked like you could use this."

  The stranger pushed a fresh glass of beer across the table. He saw Josh hesitate and nodded encouragingly before giving the glass another little shove as if proximity to the drink would entice Josh to accept it.

  "Thanks," said Josh. "But I'm trying to avoid too much booze tonight. I've got an early start tomorrow and I've spent the last three days either drunk or hung-over."

  The man laughed. “I know the feeling! Where are you headed?"

  Josh realized this was going to turn into the typical travelers talk: where are you from, where are you going, where have you been…?

  "Cambodia," Josh responded. "Siem Reap to be precise. I'm getting a bus at six tomorrow morning and I've managed to miss enough forms of transport on this trip because of beer. I don't intend to add this one to the collection."

  The man flung his head back and bellowed with laughter. He straightened up, wiped tears of mirth from his eyes and held out a chubby hand.

  "My name's Graham," he said, "but you can call me Goose. Most of my friends do. You know, Goose?"

  Josh didn’t know if this was supposed to be a rhetorical question and just stared at him.

  "Goose! From the film, Top Gun."

  Josh smiled weakly.

  "People like to have me by their side; be their wing man." Goose continued, apparently oblivious to Josh's lack of enthusiasm. "I'm a good man keep close."

  He winked, causing Josh to cringe.

  "And you are…? Goose asked, hand still out held.

  "Josh." Reluctant, he put his own hand into the one offered. It felt exactly as Josh had anticipated—hot and clammy. He resisted the urge to wipe his hand on the napkin in front of him.

  "So, Cambodia huh?" said Goose. "I hear they put weed on the pizzas. I'm heading out that way myself. Wanted to go now, but there’s some sort of problem with the buses." A frown transformed his forehead into a row of sausages. "Hey, how come you managed to get a ride?"

  Josh shrugged. "Just luck. The guy in my guesthouse sorted a ride for me."

  "Oh, wow! Really?" Goose leaned forward. "Which guesthouse are you in."

  “Sawatdee House,” Josh told him, hoping he didn't know it. Unfortunately, he did.

  "Cool. I'm right next door." The idea lit up on the other man’s face as if someone had flicked a switch in his brain. "Why don't I come back with you and find out if they've got a spare seat? Then we could travel together and I really could be your wing man."

  Goose raised his beer toward Josh. He had no other choice than to clink his own glass in salute. Josh knew it looked as though he’d agreed to Goose's plan and did his best to backpedal.

  "The thing is, Goose, I kind of prefer to travel alone."

  Goose went unperturbed. "Don't be dumb. No one travels alone. You might start out alone, but no one actually travels alone."

  Josh smiled through a clen
ched jaw. He couldn’t argue with Goose’s point. Everyone took similar routes so he often ended up traveling with other people.

  Goose took his silence as a sign of agreement and clapped him on the shoulder with a meaty hand. Josh almost felt the sweat print sinking through to his skin.

  "Come on then, buddy. Drink up and we'll go and make sure I can get a seat."

  Reluctantly, Josh drained his glass. Though he had been trying to avoid beer, he suddenly needed it. He slipped a folded bill under the empty mug, more than enough to cover what he’d eaten. He pushed his chair back and stood, clearing his view of where the dark-haired girl had been sitting. A blond man had taken her seat; she was nowhere in sight.

  Fate had determined he wouldn't meet a beautiful, melancholy woman, but was destined to spend his time with this moron instead. He’d obviously pissed someone off.

  Josh stepped out into the busy, balmy night.

  Within moments, a tiny Thai woman approached. No bigger than a ten-year-old child, she appeared to be wearing a bulky dress made of hundreds of strips of fabric. Each strip was a different color and pattern: reds, greens, blacks, triangles, stripes and spots. On many, tiny shells and beads had been sewn on. Only when she got closer did Josh realize the bulkiness was actually hundreds of fabric belts and scarves wound about her body.

  She held part of her clothing out to them. Josh smiled and bowed his head gently, while his newfound 'friend' snatched up the large camera that hung around his neck and blinded her with its flash. The woman didn’t react. She simply held her hand out toward them.

  Goose stared at her and Josh nudged him.

  "If you take her picture you should buy a belt."

  "But I don't want a bloody belt," Goose said, blinking in surprise, his voice edged with irritation.

  "It's only a couple of baht and it’s a matter of respect."

  Goose glared at Josh, forgetting his buddy-buddy attitude for a moment. Clocking the expression on Josh’s face, his shoulders deflated.