on the ground next to her. I am worried, but Kerry is not. He puts his hand out. 'Gun.' It is a simple demand.
I look at him, and see in his eyes a look I have not ever seen before - it is a combination of drunken rage, deep thought, and a set idea. 'I...I...' Stammering. He pushes me against a tree with adrenaline enduced strength, and holding me back with one arm, removes my gun with the other. Swiftly, and with precision, he turns and shoots Sal through the back of the skull.
Kerry ordered the natives to bury the bodies. They ran, immediately after.
Work ceased. Kerry locked himself in his bungalow, and several days passed before we saw him again - and it was most fateful when we did. I am not sure, as with most of this story, who here is to blame; perhaps me, perhaps Archie.
Any rate, Archie came to me one particularly hot day. Work had long since ceased, and things were slow. Everyone made it a point to avoid...everyone...it was three of us...and Kerry. But anyway, everyone made it a point to avoid his hut. Until, until that day...brave but stupid Archie approached me, about approaching Kerry.
'I'm not sure it's safe for him to be running around free anymore.' He says, and his hands knot, and un-knot.
I nod, but don't say anything. I have not forgiven myself for going along with his plan. But people do irrational things.
'How well do you know him?'
He leans forward, and puts his face down, so only his eyes peer up at me. 'And, are you surprised by his behavior?'
'We were all a little crazy, in the time that I knew him.'
'Oh, yes, I see.' He leans back, and understands. Poor brave idiot. Poor maligned boy.
'Well, do you have a plan.'
'Yes. It's simple, but I hope it works. You see, you shall approach him peacefully about it, and I shall sneak in while he is preoccupied, get the gun, and if he does not come along, we can force him to.'
I nod. I don't know how this thing shall end, but I am ready to go along, for then I don't realize that Kerry is my only friend.
Friend...I know you are not doing so well...and that I am half to blame for this. Hell, it is my fault. But I need vindication. Goddamn you, you have to tell me...you have to let me know if youíve forgiven me for this. This is my fault. Let me know...somehow...I canít die, with you mad at me...
Archie and I made haste to Kerry's portion of the camp. I stopped at his door, and Archie disappeared. I knock, but get no answer, I try the door, and it offers no resistance.
I was shocked by his appearance. Shirt off, his face painted up, he looked straight ahead, his gaze poking right through his shuteyes. I take one step. 'Hello...Marlow...' He says - quietly, his eyes still shut.
I let the door close. His blinds are shut, and a fire burns in the middle of his room, that smells funny. Red light bathes the place. 'Eh...how you doing?'
His eyes open, and immediately I wish they were closed. They are on fire, fueled by his flaming soul. I kneel, to one knee. 'I'm just fine, Marlow. How are you? How's your dreams? Still rather intact, I hope?'
'I'm sorry this happened.'
'Why? This is the best thing that could have happened.' He is quite serious; there is no sarcasm in his voice. I see Archie is in the room, he has slipped into the room. Kerry is apparently unaware, so I try to remain nonchalant. 'With most of the idiots out of the way, we can get more native slaves, and build this place into true utopia.' I begin to worry when he says. 'If only Archibald was gone. I should kill him.'
His eyes go wide. Kerry knows he's there. Archie grabs at the gun, but Kerry leaps out, and has him by his feet, bringing him down. A shot flies, and sails past my shoulder. I leap back, and crash through Kerry's door. Rolling, I hear another shot, and manage to get onto my belly, and crawl back in.
Archie is quite dead; the gun has fallen on the floor. No one can know what happened next, but I'm afraid