Slash and Burn

for half an hour,” she said. “You’ve just this minute returned.”
    “You saw me come back? I mean, on foot?”
    “As opposed to…?”
    “Reappearing out of thin air.”
    “Is something happening?”
    “I’ve just lost that half hour. One minute I was here enjoying the evening in a crowded room then—cut to now—sober and lost. Did I happen to mention where I was going?”
    “No. You headed in the direction of the bathroom. When you didn’t come back I assumed you were still having problems with your insides. After a while, Geung went looking for you but you weren’t there. You don’t remember any of it, do you?”
    “I feel as if I’ve been on a tiring journey. I feel a sense of … loss.”
    “Never a dull moment with you in my life, Dr. Siri.”
    “Oh for a dull moment.”
    They had five minutes before the generator shut down for the night; five minutes to shower, shave, clean their teeth, find sleepwear and get under the covers to ward off the bitter night air. Despite this mad rush, the loose generator washers continued to rattle and the electricity did not cut out on the stroke of nine. It gave them an unnecessary seven-minute bonus. Siri could feel the anticipation all around. He lay awake, wheezing, searching his memory for his lost half hour but nothing came. And when the din of the generator finally subsided and the lights all died, there was a massive silence. It was as if they’d reached the end of the story and someone had shut the book on them.
    He was awoken by the panicked screams of a bird; one he’d encountered many times in his jungle days. It was brown and unkempt like a feather duster and it had a voice to wake the dead. In all those years he’d never learned its real name, only that any day heralded by the feather-duster bird would be an awful one. And, seconds after the bird’s ominous fanfare, there was a frenzied banging at his door. It may have been morning. There was barely enough light to see the shape of his alarm clock and certainly not enough to make out the time.
    “What is it?” he called.
    The words he heard from beyond the door were in Hmong and they carried a good deal of urgency.
    “Yeh Ming, are you awake?”
    It was uncanny how many Hmong knew of Siri’s connection to the ancient shaman he hosted, and in moments of urgency it was Yeh Ming they called upon, not Siri. Madame Daeng stirred from her deep sleep.
    “What do they want?” she asked.
    “Help from the ancestor.”
    “Can’t they just take him and let us sleep in?”
    “I’m afraid we come as a set.”
    Siri crawled from beneath the cover and was slapped by the morning cold like a man caught in a snowball ambush. He grabbed his topcoat and jogged to the door. The air smelled of soot. Manager Toua was standing in the shadows beyond the doorway. His face was as pale as crêpe batter.
    “Can you come please, Yeh Ming,” he said. “There’s been a disaster.”
    Siri had never studied the Hmong language but one day he’d woken up to find himself fluent in it. It was a skill that came and went and he suspected his resident shaman had a hand in flicking on the switch in times of need. He returned for his trousers and slipped into his sandals. By the time he re-emerged through his door the manager had gone. Siri didn’t know which direction to head in so he opted for the dining room. As he felt his way along the corridor he became aware of the flicker of paraffin lamplight in the distance. The old parquet rattled underfoot. Toua was on the far side of the dining room beckoning him on toward the far west wing. They arrived at the last door which stood slightly ajar. The manager pointed to the gap and his finger shook. A familiar smell hung at the doorway.
    “He always ordered coffee for six thirty,” said Toua. “My wife found him.”
    Siri pushed at the door but it was obstructed by something heavy on the far side. He pushed again. Still he made no impression. He had no choice but to attempt to squeeze through the gap. He wedged in his shoulder and his head followed. His chest was more of a challenge and before it was halfway through he felt totally stuck. But he could see into the room now. The curtains were pulled and the large windows wide open. Dawn was struggling to make an impression on the morning outside. A grubby khaki daylight bathed the room blurred by the ever-present mist. On the ground low to his left were two fat bare legs, toes up, pointing away from the door. He