The Woman in the Dunes - Machi Abe [9]
“Were they buried?”
“Yes, completely.”
“That was awful! Horrible! The sands are frightful.”
Suddenly the lamp began to sputter.
“It’s the sand.”
She got down on all fours and stretched out her arm. Laughing, she snapped the lamp wick with her finger. At once it burned brightly again. In the same posture she gazed at the flame, smiling that unnatural smile. He realized that it was doubtless deliberately done to show off her dimple, and unconsciously his body stiffened. He thought it especially indecent of her just after she had been speaking of her loved ones’ death.
5
“HEY, there! We’ve brought a shovel and cans for the other one!”
A clear voice, considering that it came from a distance, broke the tension; perhaps they were using a megaphone. And then came the sound of something like tin containers striking against one another as they fell. The woman rose to answer.
He had the exasperating feeling that something underhanded was going on.
“What’s that? See, there’s somebody else after all.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” She twisted her body as if she had been tickled.
“But somebody just said ‘for the other one.’ ”
“Hmm. Well, they’re referring to you.”
“To me? Why mention me in connection with a shovel …?”
“Never mind. Don’t pay any attention. Really, they’re so nosy!”
“Was there some mistake?”
However, the woman didn’t answer this, and swinging around on her knees, she stepped down on the earthen floor.
“Pardon me, but are you still using the lamp?”
“Well, I haven’t really finished with it. Why? Do you need it out there?”
“No, this is work I’m used to.”
She put on a straw hat, of the kind used for gardening, and slipped out into the darkness.
Bending his head to one side, the man lit another cigarette. There was something definitely suspicious, he felt. He arose quietly and decided to peek behind the suspended matting. There was indeed a room, but no bed. In its place the sand had swept down in a gentle curve from beyond the wall. He shuddered involuntarily and stood rooted to the spot. This house was already half dead. Its insides were half eaten away by tentacles of ceaselessly flowing sand. Sand, which didn’t even have a form of its own—other than the mean 1/8-mm. diameter. Yet not a single thing could stand against this shapeless, destructive power. The very fact that it had no form was doubtless the highest manifestation of its strength, was it not?
But he returned to reality at once. Supposing this room could not be used. Where in heaven’s name did she intend to sleep? He could hear her coming and going beyond the board wall. The hands of his wrist watch pointed to 8:02. What could there be to do, he wondered, at such an hour?
He stepped down to the earthen floor in search of water. A red metallic film floated on the thimbleful of liquid remaining in the bottom of the water jar. But even that was better than enduring the sand in his mouth. When he had washed his face in the water and wiped the back of his neck, he felt considerably better.
A chilly draft was blowing along the dirt floor. Probably it was more bearable outside. He squeezed through the sliding door, which, stuck in the sand, no longer moved, and went out. The breeze blowing down from the road had indeed become much cooler. The sound of what seemed to be the motor of a three-wheeled pickup truck came to him on the wind. And when he strained his ears he could hear a number of people. Moreover—was it his imagination?—he sensed greater animation than during the day. Or was it the sound of the sea? The sky was heavy with stars.
The woman turned when she saw the lamplight. Skillfully handling the shovel, she was scooping sand into a big kerosene can. Beyond her the wall of black sand soared precipitously up and seemed to be bending inward on them. It must have