96 The Dead Girl (1/2)

Samir and Madan stopped as if they'd run into a wall. They looked hard for whoever had lit the campfire, but they didn't see anyone.

”They heard us coming,” Samir whispered to Madan. Madan shook his head.

”No. We were very quiet,” he whispered back. It was true. The encounter with the tiger the previous day had made them very careful. They no longer talked while walking, and made frequent short stops to examine the way ahead.

”Let's get out of sight, just in case,” said Samir. They moved behind a large bush a few steps up the slope of the hill overlooking the valley. Samir cast an anxious glance up the slope - they could still be easily seen by anyone on top of the hill. For a moment he wanted to propose moving there, but the top of the hill was bare rock. The few stones and clumps of grass that grew in isolated pockets of soil didn't provide enough cover for an observer.

They squatted behind the bush, searching the valley for the slightest hint of a strange presence. They couldn't see any, but they played it safe and stayed hidden long after the campfire had ceased sending its smoke signals. After a while, they got hungry as well as thirsty. They ate dried fish and boiled air potatoes wrapped in wild spinach leaves, and drank all the water that remained in their waterskins.

There was still no sign of life in the valley, apart from big, colorful butterflies that were enjoying flitting between the wildflowers scattered along the stream. Samir caught himself staring at them instead of watching out for intruders. He wished he could splash cool water over his head and neck: the sun was merciless.

”I think it's safe to go down there,” he whispered to Madan. Madan was sweating as badly as Samir was, and didn't protest. Cautiously, they skittered down the slope like a pair of lizards, eyes and ears on maximum alert, stopping now and then to appraise the situation. Nothing, no one! They were alone in the valley - or so it seemed.

They examined the dead campfire thoroughly: its ashes told them it had been built by someone with little experience. Several thick pieces of wood were laid on the very bottom, and it had been topped with leafy branches guaranteed to give little heat and plenty of smoke. Anyone hoping to cook anything on that campfire would be starving by the time it was done, that was for sure.

”It's time we got to work,” Samir told Madan. ”We'll have a hard time with the tools we've got. Let's use whatever light there's left to make a start.”

Madan agreed, and they both approached the spot where they'd found seams of copper and silver ore. There was a patch of bare rock at the base of the hill overlooking the valley, neighboring a dent that wasn't deep enough to be called a cave. When they got closer, they saw a foot sticking out of the hidden space, propped up on a flat stone.

They both froze. They looked at each other; then Samir took a cautious step forward, his bamboo pole at the ready. Madan followed. The foot was attached to a leg. The leg turned out to belong to a young female. She was lying on her back, dressed in a rawhide shift, with glassy eyes staring at the rock overhang. Her other leg was bent in an unnatural way. The knee resembled a purple melon; despite the swelling, Samir could see the kneecap had moved to the side, 90 degrees from where it should be.

There were no signs of other injuries. After they'd looked at the corpse for a while, Samir and Madan agreed it had to be an unlucky accident. They found it a little hard to accept - the girl should have managed to survive even with a knee out of joint, with water so close by - but then Madan turned the corpse around, and they saw the streaks of shit running down the dead girl's thighs.

”Diarrhea and a twisted knee,” Madan said. ”That can kill you. For sure. Oh! Wait.”

He bent down and picked up something from the ground.

”That's what did it,” he said. ”Jatropha berries. I've seen the plants around Kulaba, too. I've warned everyone, but it looks like no one warned this girl.”

”You're sure she's dead? She felt warm when we turned her around,” said Samir.

”She's dead all right. But it's a hot day, and she hasn't been dead for long. She was probably dying while we were sitting behind that bush.”

They were both silent for a long time. Then Samir said:

”We wouldn't have been able to help her. It was too late.”

”We could have held her hand when she was dying,” said Madan. Samir snorted.

”You're alone when you die,” he said. ”Even when you have a crowd assembled and everyone's wailing and pushing to touch you or hold your hand. Because it's you that is doing the dying. Madan, let's just bury her and get on with the job. And while we're at it, let's think how she turned up here. Maybe she's got friends that will come looking for her. Maybe they'll think we killed her. It's best that we do what we have to do as quickly as we can, and leave.”

”If she did have friends,” Madan said, ”Then sooner or later they'll discover us in Kulaba.”

”Maybe that's good. Maybe they'll join us.”

”And maybe they'll want to kill us all.”

”Madan,” Samir said. ”You need to lighten up. Not all people are assholes. Look at you and me. We're fine, aren't we?”

Madan shot Samir a dark look and said nothing.

”What is it?”