when you hit bangkok, there's really only one place to go. the street is busy, full of thai's and travelers. richard picks his way through the crowd, his rucksack on his back. he absorbs the scene as he passes boarding houses and hotels, and the shops and stalls selling food, clothes, pirated tapes, jewelry, travel tickets, and international phone calls. restaurantes are filled with western travelers watching american films or european sport.
the khao san road is a decompression chamber between east and west. it's where you learn to breathe car fumes and tropical air for the very first time, or else carefully rearrange your memories before you catch your flight home. richard is approached by a young male thai hustler who walks backwards in front of him while making his pitch.
i'll be ok, thanks. richard politely ignores each of his subsequent offers.
no thanks. richard walks on, the hustler fading out behind him.
yeah, it's all here: you an phone home, meet up with strangers, split up with your friends, watch hollywood movies while you sip budweiser and eat a burger or get some massage and green chicken soup. you could be anywhere in the world bu you could only find it here. and what do they want, all these people?
but for me it's all about finding out something about a place, and something about yourself. and when you get off the beaten track, that's where you find out what there is to find out. richard turns into one of the restaurants.
good evening. daffy says nothing but continues to stare and takes a drink. richard will not be stared down. neither turns away. the receptionist passes over a key and smiles broadly.
thank you.
thank you. footsteps approach from the stair. francoise is joined by a young man, etienne, who catches up with her. he nods at richard as he takes her arm. they walk away from richard to the next door.
eh - bonsoir.
i was traveling alone for two reasons. first of all, being alone allows you more opportunity to absorb your experiences on a personal level. secondly, and this i felt acutely at that moment, there was no one who wanted to go with me.
yes?
richard. hi.
help you out?
i'm sorry, i don't think so.
i'm really sorry but i just arrived; i'm on a pretty tight budget myself. i just can't afford it.
i'm sorry. i can't lend you any money. daffy retreats. richard turns back to the video and his food. daffy approaches two young women sitting at a nearby table.
here. he leans across and holds out a ten dollar note for daffy.
just take it, ok. daffy takes it. richard returns to the video as a big yellow explosion is reflected on his face.
no, i don't have anything to smoke. daffy stares at him for a moment. recognition dawns.
yeah, that's right. now could you be quiet so i can get some sleep.
look i don't care about the money right now: i just want some sleep. so if you could be quiet -
thanks. richard turns away.
sure. they shake hands.
bonjour.
not too bad.
the noise? don't worry. you're on holiday.
oh, that noise! yes, he certainly did.
it would be nice though, if there was a place like that. you know, that no one could get to.
twenty marlboro light, please. instantly the travel agent produces the packet of cigarettes from a shelf and lays them on the counter.
you hope and you dream, but you never believe that something's going to happen for you, not like it does in the movies. and when it does, you sort of expect it to feel different. more visceral. more real. like imax maybe. i was waiting for it to hit me, but it didn't. and just for the record, i never did get my ten dollars back. richard switches his walkman back on.
the police didn't want to waste any time on it. they were just pissed off becase he was traveling on a false passport, name of mr daffy duck, birthplace ruritania, which kind of fucked up all the paperwork. they pulled everyone in from the hotel, but all they wanted form me was a statement saying i found him and it looked like he cut his wrists. no problem. the detective studies richard's passport.
traveler.
i don't think so.
i wouldn't know anything about that, sir.
ok, this island may not actually exist. and even if it does, we might not be able to get there. but look at it like this: what else is there to do around here? richard is alone.
so what do you think? are you going to come or not. i'd be thrilled if you'd join me, you and your…you and your boyfriend.
hi. you want to take a hike? i mean a trip. a journey. with your girlfriend and me. i mean the two of you, and me. it's a secret island. paradise. you know the kind of thing i'm talking about. francoise appears behind etienne.
hi there. here, take a look. he shows etienne the map.
it's a map. the dead guy left it for me; i think it's the place he tried to sell you. it's going to be just fucking great. you want to come? i'd be thrileld if… francoise and etienne are looking at him.
i realized that i had absolutely no idea of how i was going to get there.
etienne, however, and i have to hand it to the guy, was fucking great. he organized the whole thing: tickets, timetables, best route, the whole damn trip.
thanks to him we hit the final stop on the tourist trail inside twenty-four hours, where, etienne assured me, we would hire what he called a "local fisherman" to take us on the last stage of our journey.
this was just the kind of place i didn't want to hang around. not that it's lacking in comfort. quite the opposite. it's got everything. everything you could possibly need to make you feel at home. and what's the point of that. on the beach francoise picks up a towel.
nice work.
that's the wrong one.
so from there to there?
swim?
yes, of course i can swim. how far do you think it is?
oh. great. not far at all. i don't like to be negative, but do you think we should let someone know where we're going?
we're going to swim "one or two kilometers" across open sea, from one uninhabited island to another. something goes wrong. what then?
no.
yeah, ok. foreget it. we won't tell anyone. richard picks up the map
where did you lose it?
you try reception?
pretty annoying
perhaps you smoked too much dope.
woman bites chicken leg, turns out to be a mouse. or a rat. it's an urban myth.
so?
uh-huh.
i hadn't heard that one before. but it's good. it's a good story. a torch shines on them, jolting them into some sort of reaction and a woman's voice calls out.
ok, let's face it. there is no such thing as a local fisherman anymore. there really isn't the demand for them. if you want to catch fish you put down a hundred kilometer drag net. richard walks away along the pontoon.
and if you want to go somewhere - you get a taxi.
francoise -
i think so too.
you realize that in the eternity of space, there is a planet, just like this one, where you are photographing back towards us. you're photographing yourself.
there are infinite worlds out there, where anything that can happen does happen.
exactly
sorry. i thought i was doing quite well.
when you develop an infatuation for someone, you always find a reason to believe that this is exactly the person for you. it doesn't need to be a good reason, a bad one will do just as well. taking photographs of the night sky, for example: in the long run that's just the kind of dumb irritating habit that would cause you to split up. but at the time - it's the charming eccentricity you've been searching for all these years.
i don't know - i'm american.
we think in miles, not kilometers.
i have no idea but it looks like a long way.
if it's too far, then we'll drwon. but if we dont' try then we'll never know. richard wades into the water.,
so, let's go.
you have to enjoy a moment like that. you just don't know, you see; it may never happen again. once more.
so, let's go.
i am such a fucking hero. "let's go". i felt like i'd waited all my life just to say something like that. so i replayed it a couple of times, taking it from different perspectives.
so: let's go.
you have to enjoy a moment like that. you just don't know, you see: it may never happen again. once more.
so: let's go. he dives in and begins swimming.
everyone ok?
i think we're about half way. a few strokes later.
what!
a shark fin?
big?
well what the fuck do you expect me to do about it.
well to be honest, etienne, i would rather have not known about it.
a bit fucking late. he starts swimming again. a few strokes later he hears a short sharp scream from francoise.
what happened? etienne submerges briefly and resurfaces.
was there a shark? did you see a shark? they both start looking down at their feet and circling frantically in the water.
very funny. you europeans, you have ssuch a playful sense of humor. no wonder your comedy has conquered the world. he swims on.
fuck off. he swims on without looking round.
i didn't draw the map, etienne.
i didn't force you to come, so don't blame me.
go back? how? swim perhaps? great idea. back in the water? well fuck that. you swim back if you want to. both of you. i'm not.
well, we're not going back. richard smiles. the other two are still nervous.
once again, i think you'll agree. a moment worth savoring.
the most satisfying aspec, of course, was that monseigneur practical, mr. timetable, mr i'll-sort-it-out-with-a-local-fisherman, he turned out to be not so hot in your actual primordial fight or flight situation, your combat zone, where what it takes to stay alive is quick thinking and nerves of steel. i didn't need to say anything. i knew it, and so did he. they reach the top of the hill. richard looks back. down below they can see the dope fields. they continue
that's right, all the way down.
he was right. all we had to do was follow the water and we'd be in paradise. only i twasn't going to be that easy.
why are you asking me?
because you can have an opinion too.
ok, so let's hear it.
don't be stupid. etienne?
there?
no, if we try to climb there we'll all be killed. over there looks better.
yes, or maybe we could build a hang glider and a giant staircase.
what? she turns around.
ok, so we'll jump.
are there many people here? keaty raises a hand to stop richard's question.
at first they were more interested in the map than us. it seems that daffy, the guy who drew it, he was a founding father, he discovered this places and set up the community five years ago. then about one year ago he starts to get depressed, six months later he leaves and that's the last they hear till we turn up.
he's dead. he cut his wrists open in a hotel room on the khao san road. the police didn't know what to do with the body. i guess they'll incinerate him or something.
i don't know. i don't think so.
no.
now i've got to say that my first impressions were not favorable. oh god, i thought, it's a tribe of hippies. i thought we'd have to talk about our positive energies a lot, kiss the earth every morning and recycle our waste products by some unspeakable mechanism. fortunately not. it really was some kind of a paradise. we grew some fruit and some dope. the farmers on the other side left us alone and we didn't trespass on their turf.
sal was the leader but it wasn't a big deal. there wasn't any ideology or shit like that, it was just a beach resort for people who don't like beach resorts. one man begins drumming softly on the table with his hands. another joins in, then another. soon everyone is tapping out a rhythm, against the table or a bottle or a coconut shell, using their hands or a knife or chopsticks. this is intercut with the following scene to the point where the newcomers have joined in and it reaches a crescendo as the main dish -a massive complete swordfish, is served.
there was the swedes: christo, sten, and karl.
then there were the yugoslavian girls.
i'm sorry. they start laughing at him
there was the weathergirl.
and yes, unfortunately, there was a man with a guitar.
the only person i didn't like was sal's boyfriend, bugs. he was one of those pricks who just won't shut up about all the great things they've seen and done, all of which are just that little bit better, bigger, more dangerous, more extreme, more remote, more unusual, more thi more that more fucking everything than anything you've ever done.
the local diet was pretty good and most evenings we'd smoke some dope. most afternoons too, as a matter of fact, but i had a personal rule never to smoke before lunch, although as time went on i allowed myself a certain number of - special occasions". richard smokes dope.
this became our world. pretty soon nothing else mattered anymore: family, friend, future achievements - who cares. back home was just standing behind a counter all day wearing a stupid fucking hat saying, "how can i help you sir, eat in or take away?" all gone, all faded away. i settled in. i found my vocation.
yo! a decent sized fish wriggles on the end.
and i say unto you: i shall provide.
that's right, i had an aptitude, a hidden talent. all these years i'm good for nothing, turns out i'm a full-on old fashioned hunter fucking gatherer.
that's me: a good day's killing.
he has?
great.
i'll try.
i thought we already had.
every society must have its rituals. they're what binds you together, they tell you that you belong. ours was simple. last one to arrive tattoos the next.
all the excitement of arrival had given me something to think about, but it wasn't enough to displace my major preoccupation. you can go to the most beautiful place in the world, but the sunlight shall not bleach they passion, nor the tide wash away thy desire. a hand. etienne's appears from below, beckoning her down. she takes the hand. just for a moment her eyes meet richard's and then she lowers herself towards the ground, disappearing from view. the last candle is extinguished.
he's good.
etienne. he's good at soccer.
you don't like soccer?
yea, but he is good. look. nearly scored.
i think it's good. not that i think there's anything good about being good at soccer. anyone could do that. i could do it if i wanted to. i just don't want to. that's all. she sits up.
yes?
i don't know. just conversation.
here?
no. why?
i'm not jealous, if that's what you're thinking.
so would i be wrong?
if i thought something might happen - would i be wrong? she touches him.
and that's all it takes. nothing more than a few words and the softest touch and your life is different, won't ever be the same again. man dies, leaves you the mystery map to the secret island: happens every day. but you get a smile from someone you want: well that's special, that's worth the journey.
i would have liked to have continued our discussion, to thrash out the details of our forthcoming affair, but every time i had the chance to catch her alone, something always got in the way. francoise is alone now. richard is about to move across when the center of the room is occupied by commotion. at the heart of this are bugs, and an italian man, gregorio. bugs is holding a pair of pliers. gregorio is in pain. richard watches.
i was sort of disturbed by this, but really only by the method, by the way that bugs handled it. but the guy couldn't leave; i could see that. when you have something secret, everyone's got to take responsibility to keep it that way. francoise has gone.
in any case, i was more concerned about the francoise situation. after such a promising start, it just didn't seem to be reaching its natural conclusion. in truth it was beginning to annoy me; i mean what's the use of being in paradise if you can't have whatever you want. correct me if i'm wrong, but isn't that the whole idea?
hey, etienne, you going fishing?
dont' worry. you just sit there. i'll go, ok? i'll go. you just sit there. he takes the mask and snorkel from christo and marches down towards the sea.
i can't hear. he takes the mask off to clean the lens.
and you can't hear me. he puts the mask back on and turns away from the shore. he freezes. there is a shark's fin in the water, moving towards him. he looks around. the shore seems far away. he starts swimming frantically towards it. the shark closes in. richard submerges and turns to face the shark. the shark approaches head on. it is about five feet long with the appropriate teeth. richard is terrified, convinced he is about to die. the shark swoops towards him at speed. it stops, its teeth centimeters from his mask. it pauses then flicks its tail and swims past richard. he is astonished. it circles him and approaches again, pausing just in front. tentatively, richard raises a hand. the shark does not react. richard pats it gently on its snout. it swims around him again. richard sees small fish swimming around him. he spears one and holds it out on the tip of his spear. the shark snatches it off and repeats its circle but does not threaten richard. he smiles. as it approaches again, he holds the spear in both hands and lowers it by his side. the shark bobs in front of him, curious and friendly. richard's arms begin their forward motion as his v.o. commences.
i ducked to one side, then to the other as it passed me. first on my left, then on my right.
but it could see that i was getting tired, so i stood my ground as he swam in for his final attack.
and at that instant, it was either the shark or me. the shark knew it, i knew it. richard's arms flex. the spear travels up. it stops. richard grips the spear tightly as it shakes. blood spurts out towards richards' mask in pulses and the sea turns red around him.
nothing personal, of course. it's the way of nature. but i swear that in the last flicker of its dying eyes there was a moment between us, when it said -
"hey richard - enjoy your dinner." there are cheers to the end of his story. bugs waits until these die down.
just a big fish, bugs.
sorry, bugs. is it just me or does this wet weather make everybody tired? maybe we can hear your "very different" and i'm sure "very fascinating" story some other time. there is a flurry of exaggerated yawning, sniggering, extinguishing of candles and calls of "goodnight". bugs does not laugh. he stares at richard. richard is smiling as he extinguishes the final candle.
difference to what?
sorry keaty, but i don't know what you're talking about.
i don't need to discuss this with you.
also, you're wrong. third ball re-bowled and hit well.
thank you for your opinion, father. fourth ball.
if you don't shut up, you're the one that's going to get hurt. silence
what?
thanks. fifth ball bowled and hit. the batsmen both run, richard and sten exchanging places. richard prepares to face the bowler
no. as a matter of fact, i'm going to go for a long walk.
why? what happens this evening? another obscure english sport with which to humiliate the americans?
so who was actually the first here?
so why did he leave? there is an immediate silence.
why did daffy leave? what made him unhappy? the silence persists.
sorry. have i broken a rule?
because you built a shelter.
must have been. the atmosphere is still slightly awkward. guitarman breaks the silence by plunging into a rendition of a popular favorite. sonja refills the cups. once again, etienne tilts back his head and drinks.
i think he just got carried away with the excitement of the occasion.
now, i thought, this si my moment. it's now or never. now or never. now or -
francoise -
yes!
i love this island.
no.
me? no.
i don't suppose there's any special reason that you should, spend time with me, that is.
and have you mentioned this to etienne.
what?
what?
sure. yea. i'll come with you.
anything i can do for you? bugs smiles. his right arm whips out and he grabs richard by the testicles. richard buckles forward in pain.
why are we leaving so early.
right.
over?
anything i should know?
all the way i was sort of looking forward to the party, but when we actually got there -
- i couldn't be bothered. it all seemed kind of trashy and out of place. this was why we kept the secret. if these assholes ever found out about our island they'd take just one night to spoil it forever.
great.
i don't know. i just don't know. maybe this year, maybe not. i like it here. things are different out here.
i phoned home and discovered that i couldn't communicate. i realized that i was no longer the person they knew.
you don't understand. he hangs up. he steps out of the booth. on the other side of the store are racks of patterned shirts and hats. richard walks across and stares just beyond them. he is looking in a mirror, at himself, tanned and weathere-beaten.
in fact the more i thought about it the more i realized that none of this world made any sense to me. i'd left it behind. we all had, and in its place we'd found somewhere special, and we were determined to keep it that way. he drops the "french" soap in his basket.
now i understand why no one wants to come for the rice. int.  ext. bar. night. the bar opens out to a street just back from the beach. it is busy. sal and richard stand at the bar with their drinks.
it's not like i remembered it.
there is no beach.
the map is wrong.
no. it's dangerous.
doesn't matter.
i'm just telling you, for your own good: stay away. don't go. don't even try. just forget it.
yeah, it's unbelievable.
i don't know, sal.
what?
right. great. well i'll go find somewhere else then. i'll meet you back here in the morning.
sal.
can i ask you a question?
no, it's not that. i just wondered about bugs. and me. sal rouses herself.
that's fine. that's absolutely fine.
screwing sal was pretty good but screwing bugs - that was even better.
for you.
i'm back.
the rice run? no problem.
oh…fine. listen, do you want to go to the beach?
i didnt' feel as bad as i should have about all this. in fact i didn't really feel bad at all. what happened on ko pha ngan was different, it didn't count. ext. forest. waterfall. day.
and i was glad to be back. now i really did understand why no one wanted to go for the rice. life here was so good that going back to the world we came from could only bring you down. he reaches the area by the waterfall and stands waiting. he looks around for francoise: no sign. he checks his watch: a few minutes to ten.
oh, sal. hi.
i mean, hello, nice to see you. what brings you here.
oh. well, here i am.
right now? it's not really all that convenient, sal.
me? no.
yes.
"discourage."
sal! how long do i - sal! she does not turn around. richard turns back towards the other island. he focuses the binoculars.
she didn't tell me how long i was supposed to wait or anything. you know what she's like, she just gets you to do things.
just things, you know.
hey, what's wrong - i'm sorry i wasn't there today. is that it?
no, i don't think so.
happen? no, nothing.
i promise.
ok, so i lied. it just wasn't the right time.
and the next day, we couldn't meet up either. it was straight back up. same scene again: no travelers, no boat, no action, nothing. now i thought if this is going to be a regulra situation, i'm going to have to start hiding from sal so i don't have to come up here. but a strange thing happened: i began to enjoy it. i looked forward to it, i started to explore.
and then i couldn't understand why i'd never come up before. i got a whole new perspective. they were ants, or rats in an experiment, but up here i wasn't part of it, i was free. i could do whatever i wanted. this was my personal adventure playground. there was even a bunch of local bad guys i could fool around with.
pretty soon, i was starring in my very own war movie. it was vietnam 1968, or at least about as close to it as i would ever get, considering i was born in 1973. but i knew exactly who i was: renegade special forces officer on a solo mission, search and destroy. i liked the sound of it "he prefers to work alone," they'd say, "he's got the stare." the farmers are oblivious. richard advances as far as he dare: a few meters from them. he peers at them around the edge of the tree. he notices that the one nearest has left a knife on the ground. richard lifts a stone and throws it high in the air beyond the farmers. as it falls through the trees to the forest floor the farmers are startled. they stand and turn away towards the noise reaching for their guns, cocking them, etc. the knife is taken by richard. the farmers see a bird fly from a tree. satisfied, they give up and return to their resting place. richard steals away from tree to tree. the farmer cannot understand where his knife has gone.
i hadn't entirely forgotten my purpose up here, but i wasn't worried about it. i mean i didn't want one of those bastards turning up with my map sticking out of his pocket, but if they did, it was going to be a challenge. it was a mission, my mission, to defend our island.
the only hitch was - the enemy didn't show up. now it was probably a mistake, but i one day i brought francoise up. i thought i'd show her around.
come on, just through here. watch out for the thorns. here: look. beneath a tree, a few rotting logs are topped off with palm leaves.
well, what do you think?
it's a shelter. i built it. i thought we could move up here. get away from it all.
yeah. you'll need to tell etienne, of course but -
primitive, yes, but you have to accept some limitation when you go for seclusion like this.
whatever i kill, we'll eat. francoise laughs.
do you want a mushroom?
they grow here, all over the place. i picked some. here. richard collects a handful from under the shelter. francoise does not think this is funny.
please yourself. he swallows one. francoise turns away. she struggles back through the undergrowth. richard watches her. he swallows a handful of mushrooms.
when you're a highly trained combat machine, you can't allow yourself to be distracted by minor problems in your personal life. and you can't sit around, you have to stay active, otherwise your energy will dissipate. you have to feed the fear. ext. forest. night. dawn. richard, his face disrupted by mud, sneaks towards the rough shelter of wooden planks and palm leaves under which the four farmers are sleeping. int. ext. shelter. night. dawn. the shelter is several meters long but shallow and is open down the length of one side. this is the farmers' home on the island. it contains a collection of tools, arms, crates, bedding, food, cigarettes, and bottles of cheap whiskey. spaced out within the shelter, the four farmers are asleep on low pallets or mats on the ground, each with their gun by their side. richard enters the shelter and surveys the scene. he approaches the nearest farmer who lies asleep. he is wearing a bandana which has slipped half off in his sleep. very slowly, richard reaches down and lifts the farmer's gun, a kalashnikov-type assult rifle. richard holds the weapon, becoming comfortable with it. he lifts the butt to his shoulder and squints down the sight. he closes in on the farmer, so close that the muzzle is almost tickling the farmer's nose. in his sleep, the farmer swats at his nose as he might swat at a fly. richard withdraws the gun a fraction. his finger strokes the trigger. he moves very carefully around the shelter, pointing the gun at each sleeping farmer and mouthing "bang" as he goes. he returns to the first farmer and kneels beside him. the farmer is on his side, facing away from richard. he stirs in his sleep and wakes slightly. he reaches out behind him to feel for his gun. his hand feels the metal. he relaxes and closes his eyes again. behind him, richard smiles and releases his own grip on the gun. instead he lifts the bandana away from the farmer's head and puts it on his own. now he produces the knife from the back of his shorts. he kneels beside the farmer and holds the knife firmly. abruptly he stabs it into the upright wooden plank behind the farmer's head. the blade sinks deep into the wood.
i was ecstatic. in a fair contest i had infiltrated their command and left my mark. i had fulfilled my potential as a warrior, a soldier, a killer on the loose. i could just imagine them trying to work how the missing knife got home. christo, sten, and karl appear walking down the beach with their fishing gear as richard walks in from the water.
hi, guys.
i couldn't wait to tell francoise about it.
do you want to calm down? i'm trying to tell you about something exciting. i'm trying to share it with you and all you can do is freak out because you don't like where i want to live.
no? still pissed about the mushrooms. you know francoise, sometimes you are so uptight.
oh, that. she told you?
come on, you were two-timing etienne.
well if you're going to make such a big deal out of it -
don't you think we ought to go see what the problem is? bugs pauses for a moment. he glances towards the door for a fraction of a second. richard slugs him in the jaw.
poor karl: he didn't speak much english, but he only needed one word.
they were trying to save sten's life although even as a novice in this field i could tell that just wasn't going to happen. richard backs away.
the way i saw it, sharks live in the sea, so if you go swimming where they live, they might eat you. that's what sharks are good at, that's what they do. i could have explained this to christo but i just knew he wouldn't see it. richard is standing over christo who is lying in agony on the sand.
yeah, your foot - it's - pretty bad. christo clings to him.
hospital?
yeah. sure. christo, it'll be ok.
after the funeral we all tried to get back to normal, but it just didn't seem right. after a while it became clear that the problem was christo. you see, in a shark attack, or any other major tragedy i guess, the important thing is to get eaten and die, in which case there's a funeral and someone makes a speech and everyone cries and says what a good guy you were, or: get better in which case everyone can forget about it. it's the hanging around in between that really pisses people off.
it's not that they don't care, etienne, it's just that they don't care in the same way as you do. it's a fine distinction, i know.
no! they've be equally happy if he recovered. they just want an outcome.
you worked in a hospital.
well that's one month longer than anyone else around here. look, you're doing your best for the guy. no one could ask for more. everyone apprecaites that.
jesus!
you're going to do it here?
ok! i'll hold him still. etienne prepares to proceed, but at the last moment he cannot. he drops the knife richard relaxes.
it would be a lot easier to condemn our behavior if it hadn't been so effective, but out of sight really was out of mind. the bad smell was gone - it was like we had amputated christo from our community and after the operation was over, we felt a whole lot better.
just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water.
hey, relax, just a joke. what's wrong with you?
francoise i just thought we ought to spend some time together. we haven't had a chance to talk, and let's face it, it's going to be a lot easier for us to do that if etienne isn't hanging around the longhouse.
he was getting everyone down.
i like it here! that's what happened! so what's the problem? francoise turns and walks away. richard calls after her sarcastically.
we do still have something going don't we? she does not reply.
so, it seemed that francoise and i were finished. under other circumstances i might have got depressed about a think like that, but i had something else to occupy my mind.
they're building a raft. it's nearly finished.
i don't know. sometime during all that shark shit.
they won't get beyond the dmz.
the demilitarized zone, sal.
they won't. believe me.
he's still alive?
if i was going to warn them, then now was the time to do it. all i had to do was walk out and tell them not to make any noise i could lead them to safety. i could persuade them to go. i could threaten them. if the worst came to the worst, i could lead them to the camp and we could kick the shit out of them, then send them home. but i didn't want to do any of those things. i wanted to see what would happen. zeph, sammy, and the german girls are jubilant.
so that was it. now i knew exactly what would happen. i wouldn't need to wonder aobut it any longer.
they're dead.
yes, all of them. they disturbed the farmers.
i guess that means we don't need to worry about them any more.
you knew they'd be killed.
and daffy?
daffy. he saw it happen. didn't he? yea, he saw it happen. and now you wanted me to see it happen.
i wasn't thinking about what she asked me to do.
i was trying to remember somewhere i used to call home, someone i used to be, but i couldn't put a name to that place or a face to that person anymore - they got left behind in a hotel room in the khao san road along with a man who cut his wrists.
but at least i understood why he'd done it.
i still didn't know what i was going to do when i got to them. you see, when you have blood on your hands, you ask yourself, what difference will it make if you spill some more? i had made a sacrifice to keep the secret, and now that sacrifice was the secret.
you have to leave. do you understand? you have to leave right now. if you don't they'll kill you.
there is nothing more you can do. i'll look after him.
you don't have time to talk about this. you have to go now. christo moans. etienne looks at him.
leave him with me. etienne understands. he and richard stare at each other.
hey, bugs! richard stands on the rock. bugs turns towards him. he drops the rope and walks a couple of paces, then rushes him. richard manages to avoid the blade. they fight. bugs forces richard on to the ground he is about to stab richard. etienne appears behind bugs, struggling on his feet, bleeding from his wound. he is holding a piece of rope. he slings it around bug's neck. etienne's eyes roll and his head lolls. he falls back into the water, pulling bugs with him.
that was the worst thing: i didn't even get to die. i had to live with myself.
i haven't seen her since and i don't suppose i ever will. i've been here six months now.
listening to all the people talk about where they're going to go and ho great it's going to be, and i try to tell them: you can go too far, you can find out too much, but no one ever listens, no one ever listens. i guess there's some things you just have to discover for yourself.