The Demon of Dakar aka The Demon from Dakar

Fifty-Five

Manuel was awakened by bird song, or rather, a violent screeching outside the tent. After a second or so, when he became conscious of the previous evening’s events, he threw back the blanket and sat up. Patricio was gone. They had fallen asleep next to each other, like they used to when they slept in the mountains, and in the darkness Patricio had asked Manuel to tell him about the village.

Manuel crawled out of the tent and looked around before he crawled up the slope. From the top he anxiously scanned the riverbank area. He worried that Patricio had run away yet again, but then he saw him. His brother was sitting some hundred meters downstream, up close to the river. Perhaps he even had his legs and feet in the water.

Manuel walked over to him slowly, following the edge of the field, plucking a couple of grass stalks and trying to figure out what time it was. The sun was still low in the sky.

Patricio turned when Manuel came down the riverbank with running steps. They smiled at each other.

“It was worth the escape just for this moment,” Patricio said. “Now I could go back to prison.”

Manuel sat down at his brother’s side.

“You are going home,” he said.

“How can I do that?” Patricio asked after a while.

Manuel told him what he had been thinking. Patricio was speechless.

“It won’t work,” he said when Manuel had finished explaining his plan. “The police will take me.”

“Maybe,” Manuel said, “but it is worth a try.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll manage,” Manuel said, but did not sound completely convinced. “You have to get home.”

“But that costs money.”

“That I have,” Manuel said. “I have a lot of money.”

Patricio did not ask where his brother had acquired these funds. Maybe his time in prison had taught him not to be too curious.

While the sun rose and slowly moved across the sky they went through all the details and what could go wrong. Manuel was surprised that Patricio was being so compliant. He raised no objections as he usually did. Instead he listened and repeated what Manuel said.

“Should we take a dip?”

“The river is full of plants,” Patricio said.

“I know a good place.”

While they undressed, Manuel teased Patricio about his potbelly. He only laughed, patted his stomach, and jumped in the water. They splashed and played like children, spraying each other and diving in the muddy water.

If only Angel were with us, Manuel thought suddenly, and was overcome with the grieving thoughts that had dominated his mind the past six months. But he did not want to ruin Patricio’s joy, and therefore he said nothing.

What if his plan to get Patricio out of the country failed? His brother still deserved whatever few moments of freedom he could snatch. He knew that their nighttime talks in the tent and their swim in this foreign river would forever appear among of the happiest moments in their lives. One day, if they got to be together in the future, they would think back on this day and remember it with gratitude.

Nothing could be allowed to muddy this brief moment of shared joy.

When they had put their clothes back on, Manuel took the bag out of the hiding place and showed Patricio the money. He said nothing, asked nothing, but Manuel felt obliged to tell him how he had come to be in possession of such a fortune. If Patricio had his own views or was critical of his brother’s actions, he did not say it, simply fingered the bunched bills a little absently.

Manuel put the money back in its place. Patricio appeared lost in thought. It was as if the sight of all the dollars depressed him. Perhaps the bills reminded him of Angel?

After a couple of hours Manuel decided to go up to the arts and crafts village for provisions. He had seen a small cafe there. If only they could get a little bread, they would be fine. They could take water from the river.

They had agreed to stay by the river until the police reinforcements in connection with the escape had thinned out some. The likelihood was that the highways around Uppsala had roadblocks.

If Eva had called the police and told them about Manuel, they would also be looking out for him and his plan would fail. But he did not think Eva had said anything, even though she had reacted so harshly and unsympathetically. That reaction was harder to bear than if she had gone to the police. But Manuel knew he only had himself to blame. He had lied to her, and she felt betrayed. He tried not to think of her, but it was difficult. There was something about the woman that was incredibly attractive to him. Was it her generosity and openness? Maybe it was only that he had been flattered by her eager questions about his life, or else it was simply that he was dazzled by her breasts under the form-fitting blouse, her smile, and blond hair?

In the tent, he had dreamed that they bathed together in the river. Now he had to stop dreaming. Eva was a memory.

He bought sandwiches and soda at the cafe. He did not think anyone paid attention to him. The parking lot was full of cars and groups of tourists and young families wandered between the cottages. Manuel saw a man painting something that Manuel imagined was going to be a large toy. He stopped and watched the craftsman slowly brush yellow paint onto the broad planks and realized it was going to be a small house. He was amazed that one would put so much effort into a pretend house.

The painter looked up and gave Manuel a hasty but friendly glance. Manuel felt irritated and realized that envy was the source. Everything looked so harmonious, everyone appeared well-nourished and well-dressed. There were no poor people selling trinkets or begging. The craftspeople appeared carefree and pleased with their work. Everything was so different from Mexico.

Back in the village children played with scraps. If they in fact had any spare time to play, they had to make their own toys. No one built special houses for them.

Manuel continued on, passing trees laden with apples and families who had spread blankets in the grass. They ate and drank. Some of them were playing a game with wooden sticks that they swung through the air in order to strike down the wooden sticks of their opponent.

A young couple was walking in front of him. The man had his hand on one of the woman’s buttocks. They stopped and kissed. Manuel walked past them and tried to avoid staring at them.

When he got back to the tent, Patricio was sleeping. Manuel sat down on the side of the bank. He thought about Gabriella in the village and from there it was not a great leap to Eva. His brother snored and turned. Some birds flew up from the water.

The sight of the man’s hand on the woman’s buttock had excited him. He thought of Eva. It was as if his thoughts automatically returned to her.

Manuel stretched out in the grass and was asleep within a couple of minutes.