The Orchids

HERE IN THE REPUBLIC, night falls like the collapsing of a tunnel. From my verandah I can see lights in Dr. Ludtz’s cottage. It is time for my visit. I rise and as I make my way down the stairs, I can feel the bones in my joints grind against each other, sticks of dried wood making fire. At the bottom of the stairs, I hear the night birds in their revelry and I feel — I can still feel — the richness of the natural world, its miraculous abundance. In the Camp — I am coming to the Camp — this plenitude passed through a terrible crucible: greenery reduced to mud and shit; animal to louse and rat and man. And it will always seem odd to the benevolent spirit that while the smoke tumbled from the chimneytops in that near world, here in El Caliz the parrots sang above the flowers, the great kingfishers sliced the water, and the night birds flew in a world carved out of moonlight.

I tap lightly at Dr. Ludtz’s door. I hear the sound of the bedsprings beneath him.

“Come in, please.”

I open the door slowly. Dr. Ludtz is sitting on the bed, propped up by three pillows. His hands are under the covers.

“Good evening, Dr. Ludtz.”

Dr. Ludtz smiles faintly, then takes the pistol from beneath the covers. He lays it on the nightstand. “Sorry,” he says, slightly embarrassed.

“How are you? Feeling better, I hope.”

Dr. Ludtz shakes his head. A ring of sweat glistens on his bald pate. “The fever has worsened, I’m afraid,” he says softly.

I pull a chair over beside the bed and sit down. “Are you taking antibiotics?”

“Yes.”

“Liquids?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I’m sure the fever will break shortly.”

Dr. Ludtz stares at me mournfully.

“Really, Doctor, I don’t think there’s anything to be alarmed about.”

He folds his hands over the covers and squeezes them together rhythmically. “When is El Presidente due to visit us?”

“In a few days.”

Dr. Ludtz glances worriedly at the ceiling. His lips tremble slightly. “I’m sure I’ll be ill when he comes,” he says.

“There is nothing wrong with being ill, Dr. Ludtz.”

“But what if he should be offended?”

“You have nothing to fear, Doctor. You must believe me.”

He does not believe me. He has lived in an atmosphere of betrayal too long to believe in anything but God and pistols.

I glance toward the windows, but they are tightly shuttered. He never allows them to be opened. “You should take a look outside,” I say. “It’s a lovely night.”

Dr. Ludtz turns his eyes from mine. “Do you believe in hell, Dr. Langhof?”

“No. Nor heaven, either.”

Dr. Ludtz looks at me with astonishment. “Really? You mean, you believe that after death there’s nothing. Just oblivion?”

I smile. “Dr. Ludtz, why so morbid? Why these ridicubus questions? Surely you haven’t got it into your mind that you’re dying?”

“One never knows. I’m not a young man.”

“You have a slight fever. Father Martínez says this same fever is spread all over the province. It is nothing to worry about. It will pass.”

“I wish I had your confidence,” Dr. Ludtz says. Fear is in his face. I can see it like a gray web over his features, spiders crawling in his eyes.

“You’re going to be fine, Dr. Ludtz. You need rest, that’s all.”

“Forgive me, Doctor. Forgive my morbidity. But may I ask another favor?”

“Of course.”

“I do not want to be cremated.”

I try to smile. “Dr. Ludtz, really, this is unnecessary. You are upsetting yourself.”

He stares at me imploringly. “Please, Dr. Langhof, promise me.”

“All right. You will not be cremated.”

Dr. Ludtz nods toward the closed door. “I have built a little structure, as you know. Out there. I wish to be buried near it.”

“As you wish, Dr. Ludtz. But the likelihood is that you will bury me first.”

“Still, at my age it pays to make plans.”

“All right. I will do as you wish.”

Dr. Ludtz smiles. “I suppose I’m a poor patient, Dr. Langhof. They say doctors always are.”

“It’s understandable.”

“I’m sorry to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble, Dr. Ludtz. I only wish that you would not alarm yourself.”

Dr. Ludtz waves his hand wearily. “Even without the fever, there would be things to worry about.” He looks at me sadly. “I suppose you’ve heard how things are going in the northern provinces.”

“Things?”

“The rebels, Doctor.”

“What about them?”

Dr. Ludtz straightens himself in the bed. “What if El Presidente should be overthrown?”

“That is most unlikely.”

“But this rebellion, the one in the northern provinces. It is said to be gaining strength.”

“The northern provinces are far away, Dr. Ludtz. And even if the rebels were to control them wholly, it would not interfere with El Presidente’s dominion in the south.”

Dr. Ludtz swabs his brow with a large cloth. “How can you be so sure?”

“Such places as the northern provinces are always weak,” I tell him confidently.

“But they are sometimes successful, are they not?”

“Rarely. They rely too much on courage, Dr. Ludtz.”

Dr. Ludtz’s body trembles slightly. “A chill,” he says fearfully. “I’ve been getting these periodic chills.”

“It may be anxiety, Dr. Ludtz. Would you like a sedative?”

“No,” Dr. Ludtz says quickly, flatly. “I don’t take sedatives.”

“Very well.”

He appears relieved that I do not press the matter. Perhaps he thought for a moment that it was my intent to kill him. Here in the Republic, one cannot be too careful.

“Thank you for the offer,” Dr. Ludtz says, regaining his calm.

I push my chair back slightly and rise. “Well, have a good night’s sleep. I will look in on you in the morning.”

“Yes, thank you, Dr. Langhof.”

I turn, walk to the door, and open it.

“Dr. Langhof?” Dr. Ludtz calls from behind me.

I turn to face him. “Yes?”

“Do you really believe that it’s just oblivion?”

“Yes.”

I walk out, closing the door behind me. The night is black as a dream of death. In oblivion there will be no color, not even blackness. But if there were a world beyond this world, perhaps we would be reborn into it not as our physical selves, but as the simple, irreducible essences of what we were. The killer would be born again, not as a man or woman, but as some perfect engine of destruction — a pistol or an ice pick. The comedian would return only as a laugh, the victim only as a scream. In such a world Ludtz might be reborn as a crusty little tomb, and Langhof as a maggot imprisoned in a tear.