Veronica had woken up that morning with a bitter taste in her mouth, as a result of her usual nightmare of seeing a tall hooded figure. She could not really decipher whether she was now awake or still in nightmare, since everything around her was red with the light emanating from the dim zero power bulb.
Rising from her bed with the intention of switching off the red bulb, she was still undecided as to whether to switch on the light or remain in darkness.
Having seen through the closed window glass that it was still dusk, she decided to remain in bed and pretending to be asleep. Meanwhile, as her skin touched the bed, flashes of her nightmare returned to her mind: a muddy graveyard-like place with the stench of blood and stale flesh of men and the dreaded hooded lady figure. She never knew that familiar could be so frightening and this caused her some moment of sleeplessness.
Ironically, she had a sound sleep without any nightmare two days earlier while travelling in a train that had very minimal comfort.
At this juncture, she recollected how she found herself there after flying with Matthew and Mark, who had both become unreliable male companions. Accordingly, she had earler scolded Matthew.
Not being unaware of the presence of several CCTV cameras around, she hurried out of bed by 4:00am, got dressed, packed her belongings and hastily left the room.
Of course, she knew that the cameras would not be able to capture her movement outside the hotel premises, hence she felt it was better for Matthew and Mark to realise afterwards that she had escaped from their traps.
She entered the lift and it was not unexpected that no one else was there at such an ungodly hour. The lift then descended to the ground floor.
Worried about the likelihood of being interrogated by some attendants at the desk for checking out of the hotel by 4:00am, she quickly came up with some ready-made answers to be given to them. Luckily for her, by the time the lift reached the ground floor, no attendant was in sight and this made her escape stress-free! As she began to make some long strides, she suddenly felt someone's soft grip on her shoulders. She was shocked and turned around. It was Mark.
He laughed and said, "Were you surprised? – I am an early riser too." He was not alone. Another local man with a monkey cap on his head was staring at her. Now Mark looked at her bag and asked, "Why are you carrying your bag?"
When she regained her composure after a few seconds, she said, "Oh no, I carry my purse in my bag and I can't leave it in the hotel. You know if the room service should check my bag, I won't like it."
Mark laughed again. "Don't worry," he said. "This is my hotel and no one will check your bag. Give it to him," he said pointing to the other man and continued, "Let's go on a morning walk."
Veronica asked, "Together?"
"Yes, together. If it is not a problem," he said politely.
She hated polite men. They can make anyone dance on their finger tips by their polite mannerism. She had no other choice than following Mark. A wild thought of running speedily away from Mark came to her; but the small voice in her mind said that this sixty-plus old man was fit enough to catch up with her.
That was why she rejected the idea of running away. Rather she must escape the moment she got a chance. This was not the moment, so she kept walking along Mark's side. The cool morning breeze was ruffling her hair. Mark would not say without being asked; but she sensed that the tea gardens on both sides of the road were owned by Mark also. As they walked on the beautiful greeny calm valley, Mark took a long breath and said, "This is healthy air and free of pollutants."
Pointing at the handful of female labourers working in the gardens who were binding their tea-leaves and carrying cane-made-bags on their backs; Mark said, "See how healthy and strong these ladies look!"
She nodded in agreement. Mark then began to talk a lot about Belamundis and its beautiful weather and natural surroundings. Suddenly, he breached a much anticipated topic, "So my dear beautiful girl, are you Matthew's girl friend?"
"No," she almost jumped, cutting him short.
"Then…"
"Only a friend."
"Then why are two of you travelling together?"
The phrase, 'travelling together' almost sounded like a honeymoon to her, hence she lied that she was collecting data for her father's research in respect of tribal cultures in Anglesland. Her father had gone to other parts of Anglesland and she had hired Matthew as a translator cum guide. Now Matthew was helping her because of his benevolence.
Mark asked, "What's your father's name?"
Old men ask a lot of questions especially when your parentage is mentioned: she thought.
"He is not a famous a researcher," she fumbled.
He insisted, "Despite that, what's his name?"
She lied, "B. K. Moana."
"Which B. K. Moana? Of Birmingdale?"
"No, Kaerlud."
"But you don't sound Kaerludish."
"Yes, he was born in Kaerlud. Then he settled in Novantes."
Everything she said was false and just wished the old man, Mark would not puncture her claims.
He said, "Oh then, I don't know him.'' and her response was: "I already told you."
She was relieved that he would not ask anymore about her parents. Perhaps he was thinking of something, she feared. Before he could ask another question and turn the morning walk into an interview for her, she quickly asked him, "How did you know Matthew's father?"
Mark chuckled and said, "He is one of my hunting partners."
"Hmm, how did you meet him? College mate or where?"
He proudly said, "Hunting. I taught him how to hunt in our hunting club. Herman, another friend of mine introduced him to the hunting club. But I must say, he is an introvert. I found that Herman and I were his sole friends. He disliked the idea of mixing with people, but this was OK for me. Later we became friends.
Whenever we went with a big party for hunting, he never came. Once or twice he came with Matthew who was a little child then. Now he has grown to be a handsome man.
You know, the good old days! We used to hunt boars, bears and so on, but now I hardly hunt. No one enjoys hunting anymore after Herman was killed by a mother bear while trying to save her cub. Also, I don't like hunting alone because it can be very boring. This has nothing to do with fear."
She nodded her head. When they reached a curve on the road, he said, "We have wandered too far; we should return now."
She felt like a bird returning to its cage after been recaptured. She was in no mood to return, even though she was literarilly helpless!