Zaire, moribund

Two figures shimmer in the heat as they walk a ridge high above the ocean. The first, a tall boy in a red Triumph t-shirt, holds a six-pack out across the scrub. The other takes a bottle, then uses his teeth to twist the cap. His orange striped shirt is unbuttoned, his gait the swagger of a boy unaccustomed to beer. He spits the bottle cap at the other boy, who dodges and slaps back. They speak in long, staccato bursts, each trying to overrun the other with words.

The two had been arguing for hours, fanned by the cool breeze of the Atlantic. Two more beers, two more rounds.

Hey Emile, the tall one said, what we arguing about?

How should I know? You've been talkin' shit and I've been telling you what it is. Shit. Emile pounded his bottle against a tree.

From a distance they could hear the Clank! Clank! of something hard on metal. Coming around a bend they saw a flagpole, its rope unburdened, flapping against the pole in the warm breeze.

Hey, know where we are? The Mangrove.

Sure, ay! Sure it is! Emile ran toward the empty hotel, its doors and windows shuttered against the elements. They step up onto the porch.

Lucien, you try the door. Lucien set his bottle down and shook the door from its handle. The door had been bolted and shuttered; It wouldn't budge even if the boys were strong and sober. He shook the door again, then batted the frame.

Hey look! The pool is empty. Come on!  Emile races for the empty pool, then abruptly stops at the edge.
It's deep!

Lucien walks up. You think? Come on fool. 

They crawl over the side, feet dangling. Lucien jumps first, while Emile loses a sandal and lowers himself. They slump against the shaded wall.

Remember waiting tables in winter? The old maitre d' Philippe and his girlfriend?

The parrot you mean? Emile smiled, took a swig. Yeh, nobody told knew what she'd wear next.

Or what she wouldn't wear... the older brother swung his bottle around his head.

Not with the likes of you around! A bottle crashed in the empty pool. I'm tired. Goin' home. You stay with your memories.

Lucien went looking for a ladder, and was surprised to see how dark it had become.

The sun had dropped behind the hotel some time before, and the yard was now bathed in shadow. through the early twilight the brightest stars were starting to shine. Lucien's face looked orange as his head emerged above the top of the pool wall.

Just then a loud crack like gunfire shattered the peace, quickly followed by a low boom that shook the ground. Lucien fell back, stumbling to the bottom of the pool. He pointed up toward the coastal sky. Hey wasthat? Emile looked in time to see a star grow brighter. A ring of smoke encircled it, growing bigger.

That star's erupting! His heart racing, he reached down to steady his body. No, he thought, that's a smoke ring. Someone's shooting.

Another explosion, this one on the ground. Both boys are knocked sideways; Emile grabs his brother and they hit the pool wall. Instinctively the boys stay against the wall, looking out toward the coast. Through the trees they can see fire and smoke. A street light buzzed on, then off.

Suddenly an explosion so close there was no sound, just a wall of compressed air that slammed them to the ground. Bleeding from eye and ear sockets, the boys are thrown up from the ground as it surges and subsides; Lucien is clutching his head at the temples, his eyes useless. A wave of undulating soil heads toward them, the earth burning as it falls away behind the wave. With a clenched jaw Emile tries to run, but there is no path to lead him from the explosion below. He grabs the side of the pool as it caves in on him.