The Power of Five Oblivion

strength to exchange anything except swear words. Climbing up was much harder because of the extra weight. The edge of the rope cut into their shoulders, the heavy buckets rubbed the skin off their backs. By the end of the day they were in a daze, pulling themselves up, rung after rung, with the next person’s feet in front of them, someone’s hands scrabbling at their ankles. One ladder then another and another. Matt didn’t dare look up to see how far he had to go. If he knew, he might give up.
    They dumped the mud that they had collected at the top and there were more workers ready to wash it, to sieve through it, searching for the flakes of gold that were the reason the mine existed. Torrents of muddy brown water flooded back down the hill. There seemed to be very little gold.
    They were given water three times a day – when they woke up, at noon and before they slept – but it was never enough. The water was warm and thick with chemicals that were supposed to prevent them from getting sick but both Matt and Lohan suffered from nausea and stomach cramps, and all around them people were collapsing and lying in spasms on the ground.
    Before the week was over, the two of them were almost unrecognizable. The sun had burned them, even though it never seemed to shine. Matt’s neck and shoulders were raw and red. His shirt had been stolen from him while he was asleep and he was naked to the waist, although he was so filthy it was impossible to tell where his flesh ended and his trousers began. Lohan kept himself contained in a bubble of hatred, which he directed against the guards, against the cafuzo who had sold him and even against Matt.
    The strange thing was that there were only a couple of hundred soldiers in the entire area, even though they were responsible for thousands of slaves. At first, Lohan had thought that he might be able to persuade people to join him in a general uprising. Surely it would be possible to break free if they all acted together. But he had soon realized it wasn’t going to happen. A great many of the slaves had chosen to be here. They had sold themselves into slavery and at that moment it was as if something inside them had died. As for the rest, they knew they were going to be worked to death. But they no longer cared.
    Just once, at night, Lohan and Matt talked about escaping. They were lying next to each other, whispering as quietly as they could in English. If anyone overheard them, they would almost certainly inform the guards in return for a little extra food.
    “I can get us guns,” Lohan said. “All I need is for one of the guards to come close enough…”
    “And what then?” Matt sounded defeated.
    “We can make a break for the helicopter. Or if that doesn’t work, we could head off on foot, through the jungle.”
    “We’d never make it, Lohan. We’re miles from anywhere. And they’ve got dogs. They’d come after us.”
    “Then what do you suggest, Matt? Do you want to die here?”
    “We wait for the right moment.”
    “There are no right moments. There is only death.”
    And then Matt became ill.
    It was what Lohan had been dreading more than anything, even though part of him still blamed Matt for bringing them here. It was on the eighth morning when the two of them woke up that Lohan saw that the worst had happened. Matt had a fever. His whole body was bathed in sweat and his eyes were glazed. Desperately, Lohan turned him over, forcing a little water between his lips. The other prisoners in the hut stole out as quickly as they could, not wanting to catch whatever the American boy had. It might be malaria. The mosquitoes had been more than usually aggressive. It might be dysentery. It might be something worse.
    “Get up, Matt. I can help you…” Lohan tried to pull Matt to his feet but he soon saw that it was useless. Matt’s whole body seemed to be broken, his arms and his legs lacking any strength. His breath was rasping in his throat. Outside, he heard one of the guards calling out a warning. Latecomers were beaten. Sometimes, as an example to the others, they were tied up and left without water or food, roasting in the heat. Lohan had no choice. “I will come back later,” he said. “Try to rest. Try to get well…”
    Lohan knew that the hut would be inspected as soon as he had gone. They would find Matt and they would make a decision. There was no medicine at Serra Morte and no doctors to administer it. If the soldiers thought there was any