Restless Soul - Alex Archer [56]
“Hungry, Annja?” Doc pointed to the doorway. A young Thins man came in with a tray and two bowls and a jar of water on it. “I’ve already eaten. Fixed myself a double serving of instant oatmeal a little while ago. I have a nice stock of it. Cinnamon-raisin.” He paused. “And it’s one of the few things I don’t share.” He gestured to the tray. The young man carried it to a desk and put it down, bowed and stood against a wall.
“Yes,” Annja said. “I’m very hungry.”
“Thai food, even from these hill tribes, is a tad spicy for my palate,” Doc said. He rose on his toes so he could see into the bowls. “That’s johk, in the bowls. It’s a rice soup, on the thick side, sort of like porridge, sometimes with pork in it if they catch a wild pig…but it doesn’t look like it this morning. Seems they put an egg in it for you. That would cost you an extra five baht or so if you bought johk in a marketplace. It’s a bit like khao tom, if you’ve had that before. But it’s spicier. See? They put shredded ginger in it just for you. Grown locally, and quite a treat, the ginger.” He wrinkled his nose. “You can have my bowl, too, if you’d like.”
Annja sat and tipped the first bowl to her mouth. There were no spoons. The mixture was warm and not as spicy as she’d expected, and it was as thick as porridge. She found it pleasant and filling and hoped Luartaro would be served some when he woke up. The second bowl quickly followed the first, and she drank the water in one long pull. She could have eaten at least one more bowl, but she stopped herself from asking for more.
“Thank you,” she said to the young man.
Doc translated for her.
The young man smiled, bowed again and retreated outside with the tray and empty bowls.
Annja stared at the doorway. She remembered taking off her pack yesterday and setting it just inside. It wasn’t there now. “Doc, my bag. I put it there—right there—yesterday.”
His gaze followed her finger. “I wouldn’t know anything about that. I was paying all my attention to you and Lu…and him.” He pointed to the Vietnamese man, who was trying unsuccessfully to get up. “His muscles won’t be cooperating for a little while. The stuff I gave him is made to subdue an ox, don’t you know.”
“My bag.” Annja felt her throat tighten. It had the skull bowl in it, the only real treasure she was interested in, and it had all the dog tags, as well. “Maybe one of the villagers moved it, to clean it. You said they were washing my clothes. And my boots. Where are my boots?”
Doc spoke to Som and the other woman, making a clacking sound with his tongue against his teeth. After a moment, he translated the reply. “Som’s sister has washed what is left of your clothes, and they are drying on a tree. Your boots are there as well, soaking to get the mud out. As for your pack, they did not touch it. Som thinks your other fellow—”
“Zakkarat.”
“Ah, yes, I remember him telling me his name last night. Zakkarat Tak-sin. Som thinks Zakkarat took your pack. A nice enough chap. I put a tight bandage on his ankle and told him he should have it x-rayed. Might be broken, don’t you know. Had a helluva time trying to put on his boots, couldn’t get the one over the swelling, and so he traded them to Anuman for a good pair of sandals.”
Annja turned. “Where is Zakkarat?”
Doc shrugged. “He left last night, the rain still coming down hard. Borrowed Erawan’s motorcycle and took off. Good thing the headlight was working. Don’t know how far he managed to get, though, all the rain and the mud. The trails are basically streams. I hope he brings Erawan’s motorcycle back. It’s the only one in the village.”
Annja felt herself go pale. “My skull bowl.”
“Pardon?”
“Something very important to me was in that bag. Did she see which way Zakkarat went?”
There was another exchange in the Thins language.
“Som said he went west, back into the jungle the way the three of you had come.”
Annja spun and dashed past the two women, sandaled feet slapping over the still-muddy