Deep Black

39

Friday, 10 October

I turned over in the single bed, still more asleep than awake. The balcony door was open and I could hear the odd vehicle on the move. It was still dark, but a bird down in the garden hadn’t cottoned on. I checked Baby-G– 06:31.

I dozed a few more minutes, then began to hear a new yet familiar sound, the rhythmic slap-slap-slap of running feet. They went a short distance, stopped for several seconds, then started again. I threw off the hairy nylon blanket and went and turned on CNN; the picture was still shit, but at least the sound was good. According to the world weather round-up it was a scorcher in Sydney.

I went into the bathroom and twisted the tap. There was a gurgle and some water spluttered out, a bit brown at first, then clearer, but a long way from hot. I put a glass under the cold tap, drank, then filled it again. I’d never been one for only drinking bottled water when you got to these places: the sooner your gut got used to the real stuff the better.

After turning the room light off, I scratched my arse and head, as you do of a morning, and padded out on to the balcony with my second glass. It was chilly outside, but the sun was just peeping over the horizon. Soon there was enough light to make out Connor in the empty swimming-pool getting some in.

Adiesel generator sparked up nearby, startling a small flock of birds out of their tree. I followed their line of flight out over the Tigris and a couple of boats that chugged their way upstream. At first I thought the dull bang off to my right was the generator backfiring. Then I saw a flash of light and a small plume of grey-blue smoke rising from a pair of burnt-out tower blocks three or four hundred metres away.

I ran back into my room just as the RPG thudded into one of the floors below. A split second later there was an explosion, and the whole building shuddered.

I fell to the floor and covered my head, braced for a second hit. I thought it had come, but it was just the bathroom mirror falling off the wall and shattering. Plaster dust trickled from the joists above me.

Another round hit the building, and this time it was a lot closer. There was a loud thud and the floor beneath me trembled. My ears rang.

Still naked, I jumped up and ran into the corridor. The middle of the building seemed the best place to be: for all I knew, they were attacking from both sides. I couldn’t go down the fire escape and the lift was a no-no. Everyone would be trying to jam into it, and a power-cut was almost inevitable.

There was another explosion and the lights flickered. A bunch of other guests rushed past me, shouting at no one in particular, just panicking big-time.

Another RPG punched into our side of the hotel. A woman screamed above the din. Two men stumbled and fell and the people behind them just kept scrambling over each other, trying to get away, if only they could work out where to.

I banged on Jerry’s door. ‘Jerry, for fuck’s sake!’

A heavy machine-gun sparked up on the opposite side of the hotel. Then the tank thundered a round into something out there.

The door swung open. Jerry was naked, dazed. I could smell waccy baccy.

More people swarmed out into the corridor, leaving their doors open behind them. The lifts weren’t going anywhere; some hammered the buttons and scrabbled at the doors, others made a run for the fire escape.

‘It’s safer out here,’ I yelled. ‘Come on, fuck the clothes!’

There was a sustained rattle of machine-gun fire, then another RPG round thumped into the building.

‘Fuck me.’ Jerry fell into the corridor. ‘We came here to get a story, not be fucking part of one.’ He ran back into his room.

‘What are you doing? Get away from the outside wall!’

He reappeared with his camera in his hand, and started shooting the confusion in the corridor.

There was a sudden silence. The seconds ticked by. People were holding their breath. Still nothing. Audible sighs of relief, then excited chatter.

Jerry nodded at the open doors opposite. ‘Let’s check that side of the building.’

‘And get shot by the fucking troops? They’ll be sparked up. Just stay here. Let them contain the area. You’ll get plenty of pictures soon enough.’

It had gone in one ear and out the other. Jerry shot across the corridor. Next thing I knew, he was hanging over the balcony, pointing his camera in the direction of the tank.

There was a sob to my left. A young Iraqi, naked, dazed and covered with blood, was coming down the corridor, staggering under the weight of the young woman in his arms. I could see shards of glass sticking out all over her. Her arm swayed in time with his steps. They got closer. I recognized them. They’d only been married about twelve hours.