The Bodyhoppers

By Mike Carter

Can they survive the wastes in their new bodies from the vats of Gweth?

For Doug Lawrence, a construction engineer, the new telecommunications facility on the remote Indonesian island of Bahala is just another posting. For Dr Julie Foster, travelling halfway across the world to take up a position as si

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Carter
• Release date: Jan 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781914078361

Mike Carter

Mike Carter is the founder and president of Tours & Crawls of Annapolis and Baltimore, which has been in operation since 2002. His Annapolis Ghost Tours are consistently rated among the top five paranormal tours in the country, while his Baltimore tours are quickly becoming just as popular and well received. He earned his BA from the University of Maryland, College Park. Julia Dray is a professional musician, writer and performer. After attending St John's College in Annapolis she worked as a restaurant manager, technical writer, magazine editor and pianist before joining Annapolis Ghost Tours in 2007. Locals and visitors alike know her as the "ghost tour lady."

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CHAPTER 1

TRAVELLING TO SELENDANG

DOUG LAWRENCE SLOUCHED at the wheel of the Landcruiser, easing it over the ruts and through the muddy depressions in the road. The rain had eased off for a while and little swirls of mist were rising from the surface like miniature genies on the road ahead as the sun fought its way through the clouds. He was two hours into a one-hundred-and-forty-mile journey that he expected to take much of the day, travelling along a rough dirt road through tropical rain forest. Long experience of this road and many others like it around the world had taught Doug to take his time and tackle the bad patches gently.

The trick was to resist charging through the muddy parts. Doug remembered the lessons given to him by his driver, Kiplangat, in his younger days in East Africa, who had explained that you had to have just enough momentum to carry you through the muddy patches but that too much speed could mean getting really bogged down if things did not go according to plan, and risked breaking the chassis or suspension. Any such mishap would leave him stranded on a remote road with help a long way off and who-knows-what lurking in the surrounding countryside. The other thing to consider was his own frame: aching joints and the possibility of long-term damage to his back that could result from hours of constant jarring as the jeep lurched over the rutted surface could be largely avoided by cutting back on speed slightly. In Doug’s opinion, the extra journey time was a small price to pay for the greater comfort.

The road took him from a construction camp hidden away in the tropical forests of Bahala, a remote and mountainous Indonesian island, to Selendang, a small town by the sea with a rudimentary dock that the construction companies used to ship in supplies for the construction project at Bukit Raya, where Doug was supervising the work.

Although the forest grew close up to the edges of the road, obscuring the surrounding country, this section passed through a range of hills which afforded panoramic vistas of deep valleys and gorges on the downhill side where the road was cut into a steep hillside. Rocky rivers and streams tumbled through the valleys, and could occasionally be seen cascading down magnificent waterfalls. On the valley floors, river crossings allowed more restricted, intimate views, upstream and downstream along the river courses, with overhanging trees, creepers, and the sparkle of dappled sunlight shining through the branches and falling on to the turbulent flow as it swirled over the rock-strewn beds.

This was a journey Doug made about once a month, to collect provisions for himself at Selendang, check on the shipments arriving at the dock and, more importantly from his point of view, get away from the construction site for a few days. In a sense, the travelling was a necessary evil, simply an arduous drive to get from one place to another, but Doug always enjoyed the journey. The views and the atmosphere of the forest surrounding him always gave him a sense of awe and tranquillity, and he felt privileged and very lucky that his life included such experiences. The time it took allowed him to relax and reflect on life, and provided a transition between his normal life at the construction site and the few days’ break in Selendang.

The road wound its way down a long, steep slope. As with any dirt road, the steep sections were the first to suffer erosion, and the recent rain had given the red gravelly clay surface a soap-like texture, which added a further hazard to the Landcruiser’s descent. Doug eased the vehicle carefully down the slope, conscious of the steep drop to the right. The vehicle started to slither sideways on a particularly steep section, but soon came back on line as Doug eased back on the throttle. At last, the road began to level out as it reached the valley floor, where a stone and concrete drift took it across a swift-flowing stream some twenty-odd feet across.

The drift, typical of its type, comprised a rough concrete running surface crossing the stream a few feet above the stream bed, set between stone side-walls. A row of four concrete pipes passed beneath the concrete road to take the normal flow of the stream. Thus, the road was normally dry but after rain swelled the stream, water would overtop the concrete section of road, and it would become a ford. After a heavy storm, it might be impassable for several hours. Though a typical crossing in many ways, what set this particular crossing apart was the extent of rocky outcrops and stony ground on the valley floor, which kept the forest at bay and produced a delightful picnic spot for the few travellers who used the road. A small waterfall just downstream of the road further enhanced the open feel of the place and added to the view in that direction.

Doug pulled the big jeep off the road and came to a halt on a rock slab. This was one of his favourite spots along the road. The place had no name as far as he knew, and it amused him to call it McDonald’s Falls, as it was where he usually stopped for a short break and a snack on the outward journey; his own personal café.

The canteen at the construction camp had provided him with a bag of snacks and a cool box with bottles of water and an assortment of cold drinks. After wandering over the rocks of the stream bed for a few minutes, to stretch his legs and loosen stiff muscles, he took the bag of food and cool box to a comfortable rock by the top of the waterfall. As usual, there was far more food than he could eat, but at least it gave him a choice, which was just as well as not all the food was to his Western tastes, and some he could not identify at all. A brief search revealed a piece of quiche which he ate while examining the contents of the cool box. The day was hot and getting hotter as the morning progressed, with high humidity after the rain. He needed something long, cool and refreshing. After a brief consideration, he decided that, under the circumstances, plain water would be the best bet; the beers could wait until later.

A few minutes later, the quiet of the forest gave way to the low roar of a heavy truck lumbering down a steep hill. As the sound grew louder, a mud-spattered truck appeared, coming from the direction of Selendang. It crossed the drift, eased over to the side of the road and came to a halt with the characteristic trumpeting sound of air brakes. The driver climbed out of the high cab, dropped to the ground and ambled across the rocky ground towards Doug, grinning amiably.

Hi, Andy! called Doug, Join me for a snack? Andy de la Paz was a shortish man of medium build who came from the Philippines and worked as a mechanic on the site. When shipments included spare parts for the site workshop, Andy would take a truck to pick them up. He preferred to do this himself rather than send a regular driver so he could check that nothing went astray or was loaded in a way that might damage it. He also enjoyed driving the truck as a break from the routine of the workshop.

Don’t mind if I do. What’s on the menu today? Andy began to peer into Doug’s food bag as he reached Doug’s picnic spot.

Anything you can find. There’s far too much for me, so help yourself. Doug waved his hand vaguely over the food bag for emphasis. Andy selected a couple of packets from the bag.

And something to wash it down with, he said, pulling a beer out of the cool box.

So, what’s the news from Selendang? asked Doug, All your stuff arrive in the last shipment? You seem to have a full load."

Not really. The urgent parts we need for the back-hoes arrived, thank goodness, but about half the expected shipment didn’t turn up. A lot of that stuff, he gestured towards the truck, is equipment and machinery for the site, just to make up the load; weird-looking stuff, some of it. But there’s an extra shipment due in another couple of days and I’m told my stuff should be on that. Andy fell silent for a while as he attacked the bread roll he had selected. There is one thing, though, He turned towards Doug, his head slightly at an angle and a sly smile on his face, and the conspiratorial air of one who has a secret to tell. Remember that talk of having a resident site doctor? Well, it seems we really are going to get one, and he’s arriving on the boat bringing in the next shipment. What’s more, you’re going to have the pleasure of meeting him and bringing him up to site.

Nobody told me about this, this morning, said Doug, annoyed that he should receive this news as gossip before being informed properly, and also slightly sceptical of its accuracy.

Nobody in Selendang knew until this morning, said Andy, by way of explanation, I just happened to be in the office when the message came through on the radio.

Doug was intrigued and perplexed by Andy’s news, and wondered whether Andy had misunderstood the radio message, but he did not see the point in discussing the matter further, so he changed the subject, asking after Andy’s family back in the Philippines. They chatted inconsequentially for a while before returning to their respective vehicles.

As he continued his journey, Doug began to think about Andy’s news. It was highly unusual for a construction site to have a resident doctor. With a workforce of almost two hundred, in a remote location, a site clinic staffed by a nurse could be justified, but even that would be considered a luxury by most standards. There had been more than the usual health problems, with workers suffering from severe fevers which had caused anxiety among the workforce when the men became too sick to travel, and the doctor in Selendang had refused to undertake the journey to the site. There had also been a nasty incident where a crane had fallen over, badly injuring three men. One of them had died before they could get him to Selendang. The mountainous nature of the terrain around the site ruled out the possibility of building an airstrip, so all medical emergencies had to be evacuated by road. It was an uncomfortable thought but accepted as being one of the hazards of the job in this line of work. Doug wasn’t sure whether he felt reassured that the contractor should provide a doctor or worried why they should deem it necessary: construction companies were not generally noted for their concern over employees’ welfare, especially in out-of-the-way places like this.

The journey continued uneventfully, and by shortly after midday, the steep, mountainous terrain had moderated to gently rolling hills. Parts of the forest had been cleared in this region to provide grazing for hump-backed cattle, with a few patches of crops; maize and a variety of vegetables. A small village was located where the road crossed a narrow river; a collection of ramshackle mud huts with thatch or corrugated iron roofs sprawled untidily either side of the road. On the right, the ubiquitous ‘Coca Cola’ sign rustily identified a dilapidated wooden building with a verandah overlooking the road to be the village’s one café-bar. This was Doug’s usual lunch stop, where he could relax over a coffee and possibly a hot snack, though he tended to prefer the food he brought along with him, which the café owner did not seem to mind him eating on the premises.

After the village, the countryside levelled out further, to become a gently rolling plain. The road was better looked after here, to meet the needs of a sparse farming population, and had less tendency to rut than in the steeper hill sections, despite the extra traffic. This allowed Doug to drive faster, and by three o’clock he could see the sea and the little town of Selendang. Another half an hour’s drive brought him to the start of bitumen road on the edge of town. Though built to a poor standard with surfaces that, in places, were made up largely of generations of pothole repairs with little of the original surface remaining, the town roads seemed smooth by comparison with the bone-shaking earth and gravel surfaces he had been driving over all day.

The roads were busier now, with an odd assortment of vehicles jostling their way around the town, and pedestrians wandering alongside and across the slow-moving traffic. To Doug, the traffic conditions in Selendang had at first seemed to be chaotic but now he was used to them he realised that there was a sort-of order to them; just a different style of road use, with less rigid adherence to formal rights of way and with more give and take between road users than he had previously been used to. As a pick-up slowly pulled out of a side road into his path, he simply slowed a little and moved over to allow the driver to join the stream of traffic without giving it a second thought.

His first stop was the Hotel Amsterdam, where he would stay. A room should have been booked for him through his company’s office in Selendang, which had a satellite link with the construction camp, but arrangements could always go wrong, and he liked to feel assured that he really did have a place to stay. The Hotel Amsterdam was the best hotel in Selendang but, even so, hardly lived up to the international image which its name suggested. It was a brick-built, two-storey building with a dark red corrugated iron roof, set back from the road amidst lawns and quiet gardens. The outer walls were covered in cream plaster, in need of painting now, with heavy, dark brown window frames and a solid, square appearance which spoke of its Dutch colonial origin. Inside, the high ceilings, dark panelling and general air of solidity further added to the feeling of history, a past now turned slightly seedy by neglect and the passing of time.

Whatever its imperfections, or perhaps because of them, Doug found the atmosphere here restful and reassuring, especially now that the staff remembered him from previous visits. A number of the staff spoke English with varying degrees of proficiency, which also helped to make life easier. Doug had learned little Bahasa Indonesia: he had made efforts to learn the local languages on previous contracts but, as he usually moved to a new country every year or two, the effort seemed wasted; and on construction sites, with so many nationalities working together, the lingua franca was almost invariably English.

Reassuringly, the receptionist recognised him as he entered, and there was no problem confirming his booking. He left his holdall, containing his clothes and other items he might need for the weekend, with the receptionist. That was one less thing to worry about, and he felt it was marginally safer at the hotel than in the back of his jeep. Not that theft was much of a problem in this sleepy backwater.

His next stop was his company’s office to check in with the resident manager in Selendang, Ron Snow, a short, slightly overweight Australian in his late fifties. The office was, in fact, one room of a rambling old Dutch colonial-style house where Ron lived with his wife, Jenny.

Well, well, if it isn’t young Doug, come for a dirty weekend in the big city, shouted Ron through the open office window as Doug approached the house. You have a good sense of timing; Jenny’s just making some tea. Come and join us, it’s the real stuff, with fresh milk and everything; well, long-life milk, anyway. Why don’t you make yourself at home on the stoop? I’ll be along in a few minutes, just as soon as I’ve finished off this paperwork.

Sounds good to me. See you on the verandah in a few minutes, Doug called back, changing direction to go round the back of the house. Hello, Jenny, he called tentatively as he reached the rear verandah, not wanting to cause alarm by approaching unannounced.

Hello, Doug, come to join us for tea? Jenny was in the kitchen organising Ibu Jejeh, her maid. Sit yourself down, I’ll be out in a jiffy.

Doug settled into one of the cushioned rattan chairs arranged around a small glass-topped table, to wait for his hosts. Jenny came out a few minutes later and seated herself to face Doug across the table. They chatted for a while. Jenny was excited that her daughter would be coming to visit them the following month for two weeks. Loss of contact with family was one of the drawbacks of expatriate life which Jenny found difficult to cope with, and she always looked forward to any reunion with her children.

Ron joined them as Ibu Jejeh arrived with the tea. They exchanged a few pleasantries, and then Doug could contain his curiosity no longer. Ron, what’s this I hear about the site having a resident doctor, whom I’m supposed to meet this weekend and take back with me? Is it true?

News does travel fast, Ron raised his eyebrows. I didn’t know about it myself until this morning, so how the devil do you know?

I met Andy on the way down, and he said he’d heard a message on the radio.

I should have guessed. That nosy bugger’s into all the latest gossip; he’s worse than an old washerwoman.

But why should the contractor want to have a resident doctor on-site? It’s highly unusual, in fact, I’ve never heard of such a thing, and it’s going to cost them a fortune. Is there something about these fever outbreaks that we don’t know about? Don’t get me wrong, I’ll be as glad as anybody to have better medical facilities available but it’s got me worried that the contractor should think it necessary.

Ron placed his cup carefully on the table and looked straight at Doug. It’s not the contractor who’s bringing in the doctor or thinks it necessary; in fact, their people are as mystified as we are. It’s the client who’s bringing him in, complete with a fully equipped clinic, and I do mean clinic; it’s some sort of prefabricated unit, complete with all fitments.

Doug was so surprised, he let out an involuntary gasp and choked on a mouthful of tea, much to Jenny’s amusement. I expect the reasons will all become clear enough before long, she said, so there’s no point in getting worked up about it.

I suppose you’re right, muttered Doug as he recovered from his mishap. So when is he arriving, and what about the medical supplies or whatever?

There’s an extra boat coming in, day after tomorrow, and both the doctor and the clinic should be on it. We’d better give him a night in Selendang before we send him up-country: he’s flying out from London, so he’ll be jet-lagged as it is. Ron sipped his tea and smiled. Look on the bright side, you’ll get an extra night in town, all expenses paid.

They chatted a little longer, exchanging news and gossip about the construction site and life in Selendang, and Jenny invited Doug for lunch the next day. Doug accepted, glad of both the homely atmosphere and the home cooking, both of which were absent from his life on site. Ron and Jenny also appreciated the company and change of routine that entertaining visitors provided, but it was tacitly understood by visiting staff that social visits to their house were by invitation only, to avoid undue disruption to their personal lives. Doug also preferred to maintain a balance between enjoying their company and being free to do whatever he wanted during his visits to town.

Doug had a few details to discuss about trucking arrangements for the various supplies expected in the coming shipment, and his concerns that future shipments would arrive in time to avoid delays to the work, but decided this business could wait as he would be in town for a few days longer. He therefore left for the hotel, where the prospect of a cool shower followed by an even cooler beer beckoned invitingly.

While Doug was contemplating his weekend in Selendang, Julie Foster, at once a doctor and a young woman in search of herself, was nervously contemplating her own future and reflecting on the events that had led to her now being on a flight to the other side of the world. Her thoughts were disturbed by the arrival of the food trolley.

Chicken or beef? asked the flight attendant.

Chicken, please. Julie took the tray and carefully placed it on the fold-down table in front of her seat. Although it was several hours since she had eaten, her stomach told her she was still full, the result of being trapped in her seat, unable to move except for the odd stroll down the aisle. But she would eat it, out of sheer boredom, and the food smelt appetising enough. She eased off the foil lid, trying not to let the condensing steam drip over her, and began to nibble the food.

Julie had flown before, of course, on package holidays to Europe, but this was her first experience of long-haul flights. It was not an experience she was finding at all enjoyable, after being confined to a seat for nine hours, with the prospect of a further five hours to go. To make matters worse, she felt nervous and kept getting attacks of mild panic whenever she considered the gravity of the step she was taking. She felt tensed up, and there was a knot in her stomach that never seemed to quite go away. As she toyed with the food, Julie reflected on the events that had brought her to her present situation, flying halfway around the world to a completely unknown future, having burned her boats on a career that would have been the envy of many.

As a girl, she had been interested in biology and fascinated by how living things worked, especially the mechanics of animal and human bodies. That interest, and a natural instinct to want to care for people, made medicine seem the obvious choice. At school, she was academically talented, and was able to achieve the extremely high standards required to gain entry to medical school, so that her childhood games of doctors and patients would be translated into reality.

She looked back at her time at Edinburgh with a feeling of warmth and pleasure. It had been hard work but there had been time to have fun too, with the university environment offering the opportunity to have a full social life, and plenty of like-minded souls to share it with. Edinburgh’s position, surrounded by the rugged beauty of the Scottish countryside and the east coast, had given her the added opportunity to experience outdoor activities such as hill walking, climbing, skiing and sailing. She had dabbled in all of these but eventually decided that, for her, hill walking was what suited her best. The steady rhythmic plod through the hills and the open, breath-taking views gave a welcome contrast to the bustle and pressures of student life in Edinburgh. Yes, it had been a good time.

After gaining an MD, she had obtained a post as a houseman at a hospital in the English Midlands. This new chapter of her life brought a drastic change of lifestyle. Working hours were so long that she had much less opportunity to get away, and often felt so worn out that she could not be bothered to do anything. The clubs and activities provided by the university environment were no longer available, and the lack of easily accessible countryside limited her hillwalking trips, though she had managed to find a local rambling club. Still, she had made friends through the hospital staff, and had a reasonable enough social life. Besides, she had told herself, this was only a temporary phase while she gained practical experience.

Her situation seemed to improve after she met Dave, a young doctor at the hospital, two years older than herself, but after a few months, it seemed that the only thing they had in common was their work, so the affair petered out.

Justin was different. As an accountant, he knew nothing about her work, and showed no more than a polite interest, but was keen on getting away at weekends to walk through the countryside, by way of a complete contrast to his sedentary life at the office. Like Julie, he enjoyed hill walking, but was also happy simply pottering about in the villages, and just being, absorbing the ambience, and did not feel he had to do something all the time. Julie had found his attitude so different from her own, and so refreshing. She too had become happy to just be, so long as she was in Justin’s company. She still felt a nice, warm glow whenever she thought about the days out they spent together, and the nights too, when they stayed in country inns and simple bed and breakfast hotels.

Then, without warning, it all came to an end. Justin explained that his firm had asked him to go and work at their Singapore office. It meant promotion, an irresistible salary, and the chance to do something different. They had discussed the possibility of Julie going out with him; she could probably find a suitable job in Hong Kong, but somehow it did not appeal. Though their friendship had given them both a great deal of happiness, Julie had never really thought where it was leading. She liked Justin a lot but could not say she loved him exactly and, though she had not thought of their times together as coming to an end, neither had she thought of it as being permanent. The fact that they still lived separately underscored the lack of commitment on the part of either of them. Julie felt devastated at the thought of giving up Justin’s companionship, and at the same time resentful of him for what she saw as an ultimatum: either she went where Justin wanted to go or he left her behind. Deep down, she knew her attitude was unreasonable, as she might have done the same thing in his position, but that did not lessen her irritation.

Left on her own, she began to reflect on her life as a junior doctor. She was now working in casualty where she found the unpredictability of the work and the often frenzied activity made the work interesting, even exciting at times, but it was also more stressful, and she found herself working staggeringly long hours. Even her leisure time was often restricted by her having to be on call so much. And, somehow, the satisfaction of helping those in need did not live up to the expectations of her childhood dreams, as she treated a never-ending stream of drunks and hooligans who appeared to expect her to work herself to exhaustion to help them whilst they made little effort to help themselves. Somehow, she had lost the ability to enjoy life, and could see no prospect for improvement in the future. She felt trapped.

She had discussed her problems with a few colleagues who had given her sympathy but little else. Perhaps, one or two had suggested, it might be as well to make a fresh start somewhere else. This idea appealed only in so far as she could not think of anything better, though simply changing to a similar situation in another hospital, another city, did not really seem to offer the hope of real improvement. She needed something different, she thought, as she desperately scanned the appointments web sites.

When she saw the advertisement, she could not really take it seriously. Yes, she was looking for something different, but this was so far beyond what she had in mind that it was outrageous even to consider it. The requirement was for a doctor to work at a remote construction site on a tropical island in the Pacific Rim. The web page gave few details: neither the name of the employer nor the precise location of the job was given. It was all so vague as to make her feel nervous. The ideal applicant, stated the advertisement, would have experience in casualty and tropical medicine, and should have a sense of adventure. The work would be on a strictly bachelor status, as the conditions were not suitable for families.

Julie had turned the page to look for a more realistic opening. Only later, having found nothing which seemed to fit her requirements, did she sneak a second look at the advert. Certainly, she had experience with casualty work now and she had no family to worry about. Adventure was precisely what she was looking for, but this looked like too much of a good thing. Besides, she had no knowledge of tropical medicine beyond what was taught at medical school. The rational side of her mind dismissed the idea as unthinkable.

The next day, her old flame, Dave, had come to sit with her at lunch. This had surprised her as they did not normally have much to say to each other, though they had remained reasonably amicable except for a tricky period just after they had broken up. Dave, with his easy-going personality, was quite happy in his work, and seemed to have settled down well into the area, having recently become engaged to a local girl. Dave said he was concerned about her depressed state and, well, it was none of his business, but had she seen this advertisement for a doctor in a remote tropical location? He admitted it looked like a bit of a long shot, and could be a disaster for the wrong person; certainly, he would never consider such a thing himself. They had talked around the subject for a while, and Julie had found herself pouring her heart out to Dave. She agreed that, though she did not think she was prepared to take such a radical step, she had been unable to put the advert out of her mind. Well, why not write after it, just to satisfy your curiosity? Dave had suggested. At least, then, you won’t feel you missed an opportunity because you were too afraid even to ask.

So had started the first of a number of tentative steps, each taken with trepidation and soul-searching on Julie’s part. When, to her surprise, she had been offered the post, Julie felt both afraid to take such a drastic step, especially since the job would clearly be only for a limited period, yet trapped in her present situation if she declined the offer. Finally, she decided that anything was better than continuing in her present depressed situation, and accepted the post.

Julie finished her meal and slipped into a fitful sleep. On waking, she read for a while before she became distracted by a change in the aircraft’s engine noise and attitude: clearly, it was beginning a slow descent. Half an hour later, the seat belt signs lit up, and she again became aware of the knot in her stomach. Once the plane had come to a halt in front of the terminal building, Julie gathered up her hand luggage and shuffled to the exit. She passed through the immigration control without difficulty, and was relieved to see her suitcase on the luggage carousel. Having found a luggage trolley, she made her way through to the arrivals hall, feeling lost. This was not the end of her journey: she now had to take an internal flight to Surabaya, at the western end of Java. She found an information office and was directed to the domestic terminal.

As she left the building, the heat and humidity came as a shock. Although it was still early in the day, she felt hot and clammy within minutes and was glad to retreat to the air conditioning of the domestic terminal. Fortunately, she had only three hours to her next flight, and managed to locate the check-in desk, which was already open. Relieved of the burden of her luggage, Julie felt she could relax a little. After being imprisoned in an aircraft seat for so long, she was in no hurry to sit down and decided to go outside again. As the heat met her, she realised for the first time that living in such a climate might not be as idyllic as she had imagined, but for the moment it was a welcome change from the sterile atmosphere of the flight.

To somebody whose flying experience had been restricted to wide-bodied jets, the 20-seat Twin Otter turbo-prop, with oil streaks running back along its wings from the engines, did not inspire confidence. The cramped interior seemed claustrophobic, tunnel-like, and smelt strongly of engine fumes. The noisy, jolting take-off only added to her apprehension, but once the plane was airborne and flying smoothly, she was able to relax and appreciate the view of the verdant tropical landscape and the huge, magnificent remnants of the volcanoes that merged together to form the island of Java.

Without the need for customs and immigration checks at Surabaya, Julie only had to wait for her suitcase before walking through to the arrivals hall. She had been assured that somebody would be at the airport to meet her and, as she surveyed the small crowd gathered in the hall, she was relieved to see a man holding up a piece of cardboard with ‘Dr Foster’ written on it. Working her way through the throng, she approached the bearer of the sign; a small, scrawny man with a slightly wrinkled face and thinning black hair. I’m Doctor Foster, she smiled, hopefully.

Ah, Doctor Foster, I am Pak Tarman, and I must take care of arrangements for you in Surabaya, said the man, reaching for her suitcase. Please follow me. Julie wondered whether the little man was strong enough to pick up the heavy case, but he seemed to have no difficulty with it, and she was too tired to argue.

He led her to a minibus. You are booked into hotel for tonight, he said as they made their way into the city, and tomorrow morning I take you to boat to Selendang on island of Bahala. This last piece of information came as a surprise. She had known about the internal flight across Java but did not realise she now had to take a boat.

How long will the boat take to reach Selendang? she enquired.

Not long, replied Pak Tarman, It leaves tomorrow afternoon and arrives in Selendang on Monday morning.

That meant two nights on the boat. Julie felt dismayed. So long! Do I have any accommodation on this boat? she asked, thinking, ‘Will this journey never end?’

Do not worry, smiled Pak Tarman, You get cabin on boat, and can relax after your long journey from England. Is good for you.

She considered this and decided that perhaps he had a point. A couple of day’s cruise did not sound so bad after all.

She began to feel more relaxed, and started to take notice of her surroundings. Everything seemed so strange; the whole atmosphere of the place had an alien quality which she had not experienced before, even on her holidays in Europe. And the traffic! It seemed to be totally haphazard, and she could not understand how Pak Tarman could wend his way through this chaos with such apparent unconcern.

She became fascinated by the novelty of her surroundings and was surprised when they suddenly turned into the hotel driveway. It was an old building, not prepossessing, but its setting in well-kept gardens gave it a pleasing, relaxing feel. Pak Tarman made sure she was settled in and left, saying he would return after lunch the following day to take her to the boat.

She was shown to her room and, once the porter had left, flopped across the bed, luxuriating in simply being able to stretch out and relax. After a few minutes, she made her way to the bathroom and, after a cold shower and change of clothes, felt better able to face the world. In her improved state of mind, she decided to explore the hotel before dinner.

For the evening meal, she decided to keep to the more familiar Western dishes, as she did not want to risk unfamiliar food, with the prospect of a sea voyage the following day. The food, when it came, was good but not quite Western, with a slightly unusual flavour and some tasty but unfamiliar vegetables. After dinner, she sat out on the terrace and settled into a novel she had brought with her, relaxing over a couple of glasses of wine as she read. The sense of impending doom that had hung over her for the last few days slowly receded, and she began to gain hope that, after all, her adventure might not turn out to be the disaster she feared. By eleven o’clock, she felt it was time to go to bed, considering her long journey and lack of proper sleep the previous night.

She had expected to fall asleep quickly but sleep did not come. Tired as she was, her body clock, which was seven hours out of kilter with local time, flatly refused to acknowledge that it was anything other than late afternoon. By two o’clock, she finally fell asleep through sheer exhaustion.

She awoke feeling that it was sometime in the middle of the night but was surprised to see daylight filtering through the curtains. Retrieving her watch from the bedside table, she was horrified to find it was almost eleven o’clock. There was no particular need to get out of bed but she felt that she should be up, if only to help her adjust to local time. Disorientated and trembling, as one woken from a deep sleep in the middle of the night, she shuffled to the shower in the hope that it would help waken her up.

She was not hungry, so sufficed with a coffee on the hotel terrace. Later, after a light lunch, she packed her bags and waited for Pak Tarman. He arrived, as promised, to take her to the boat. Despite her poor night’s sleep, she was better able to take notice of her surroundings than she had been on the previous day. As they passed through older parts of the city, she found the traffic even more disconcerting, and was horrified to see the state of many of the shacks that passed for houses, shops and workshops. The sight of ponies and carts in the midst of this urban sprawl also came as a surprise.

When they finally reached the boat, she realised that her implicit assumption that it would be a ferry, or at least a passenger boat of some kind, was far off the mark. The battered-looking cargo boat was streaked with rust, and both the boat and adjacent quay were a shambolic clutter of crates and boxes that were being loaded. Pak Tarman introduced her to the captain, who spoke no English but welcomed her aboard and arranged for one of his crew to take her to a tiny, shabby cabin. Her up-beat mood of the previous evening began to evaporate and the doubts were creeping back. Still, she consoled herself, this was only for two days, and she could look on it as an adventure, or, at least, an experience. Perhaps, she reflected wryly, all life’s activities could be divided into two categories; pleasures and experiences, with the coming voyage being in the latter category.

The boat departed late in the afternoon, and during the evening she found herself having dinner with the crew in the boat’s small and very basic mess. Communication with them was impossible but they made her welcome by a combination of gestures, smiles and comic mimes. There was no choice of food, so Julie had her first experience of Indonesian cooking. She found it surprisingly pleasant, made from all fresh ingredients and not as spicy as she had imagined. There was no glass of wine to relax with this evening, just water or tea.

The captain and crew were all very friendly and went out of their way to show her about the boat. Clearly, she represented the main source of entertainment in the restricted, mundane routine of life on the boat. To be the centre of attention, she found amusing and slightly embarrassing. She felt particularly on show when she had to visit the boat’s rudimentary toilet facilities, aware that eyes were following her wherever she went.

The motion of the boat on a moderate swell and the steady throb of its engine combined to lull her to sleep in the night, so that she felt in a more relaxed frame of mind the next day. By the second night, she was beginning to adjust to the time change so that by the following morning her confidence had returned.

By mid-morning she noticed a dark smudge forming on the horizon, which gradually grew until it was evidently a coastline. Shortly after midday, the town of Selendang was clearly visible as the boat made its way towards the dock. The voyage had turned out to be more pleasant than she had expected, she reflected, as she watched the town grow larger. She had enjoyed the crew’s company, though it had begun to feel a little wearing, being the centre of interest all the time. Julie had her luggage ready and was looking forward to making a start on her new life, though the knot in her stomach had returned at the thought of the uncertainties which lay ahead.

CHAPTER 2

THE DOCTOR ARRIVES

DOUG’S WEEKEND FOLLOWED the usual pattern, with days spent lazing by the pool, eating and wandering around the town shops to buy odd items such as clothing, biscuits and drinks to last him until his next trip. He also had a list of small items to buy for other members of the site workforce: it was accepted that whoever went to Selendang would provide a shopping service for those left behind on-site. This was a chore Doug did not mind: it gave him something to occupy his days, an excuse to wander around the town, without having to spend his own money.

A number of the other guests were regulars, some working in Selendang who stayed permanently at the hotel, and some who were working on projects nearby who, like Doug, made frequent visits to the town for various reasons. A number of people living in the town also regularly visited the bar, or came for meals, especially at weekends. This made for a friendly, convivial atmosphere, with the opportunity to play darts, have a game on the hotel’s pool table and to swap news and gossip in the bar. It was a lazy, indolent way to spend a weekend which Doug found thoroughly satisfying after the work-orientated atmosphere of the construction camp.

Since Doug had to wait an extra day for the arrival of the doctor, he decided to use the time profitably, and arranged to check through some schedules of equipment deliveries with Ron. By late morning, they had finished the paperwork and were at the quay, checking through crates of equipment in an old workshop which Ron had rented for use as a warehouse. Periodically, one of them would look out to sea to check whether the expected boat was in sight.

I think this is our boat on its way in now, called Doug, after checking just before midday.

Yes, that’s our girl, Ron came out to see for himself, blinking as he stepped into the bright sunlight after the gloom of the warehouse. Perhaps we should finish off here for now and go down to the quay. We’ve not much more to check through and all afternoon to do it. They ambled slowly down towards the dock, watching as the old freighter edged its way towards the quay. Ugly old thing, isn’t she? commented Ron. Wouldn’t look so bad if she had a lick of paint.

Hawsers were thrown to men waiting on the quay, and the boat was moored securely. "Selamat siang," Ron greeted the captain who was starting down a gangplank, and went to chat with him. Watching them talking together, Doug envied Ron’s knowledge of Bahasa Indonesia, feeling slightly guilty that he had made so little effort to learn the language.

Doug waved to the captain but stayed back, since he could not contribute to his conversation with Ron. He was idly watching the activity on deck when he noticed a European woman walking tentatively down the gangplank, looking unsure what to do next. One of the crew walked ahead of her, carrying a suitcase on his shoulder. The crew member dumped the suitcase on the quay and returned to the boat. Doug was intrigued: perhaps Doctor Foster would be able to satisfy his curiosity once he arrived.

Julie stopped by her suitcase and looked around. She had expected somebody would be on the quay to meet her, and felt somewhat abandoned. Then she noticed Doug. His scrawny frame, rumpled clothes, smeared with dirt from his morning’s rummaging around the crates in the warehouse, and generally unkempt appearance were not what she had imagined a company representative, come to meet her, would look like. Still, he might at least speak English, and be able to point her in the right direction. She tried to catch his eye.

Doug saw her look at him and, noticing she seemed at a loss what to do, decided he could perhaps be of assistance and satisfy his curiosity at the same time. He smiled and strolled over. Hi, can I help you? You look lost.

Well, I was expecting somebody to meet me here, explained Julie, but there doesn’t seem to be anybody around.

As a matter of fact, I’m here to meet somebody, myself, a Doctor Foster. Presumably, you’ve met him on the boat, Doug explained. As he spoke to her, he could not help noticing her features: a bit of a plain Jane, he thought, something of a straight up-and-down figure, with short, cropped brown hair and rather primly dressed, giving her a slightly stern, no-nonsense appearance. But there was something about her that he found attractive. As he was appraising her, he could not help notice the look of annoyance pass across her face.

What makes you think Doctor Foster is a man? she asked, pointedly. It took about two seconds for Doug to realise his mistake, and Julie was rewarded with a series of changing expressions on Doug’s face; confusion, followed by surprise and, finally, embarrassment.

Doctor Foster? he stuttered.

So it would seem, responded Julie, crossly. She could not help enjoying this man’s embarrassment, but was annoyed by what she saw as his sexist attitude, all the same.

Look, I . . . well, I didn’t expect . . . what can I say? I’m very sorry, but I sort of assumed it would be a man, considering the conditions at the construction site, he said, lamely. Anyway, I’m Doug. I’ll take you to the hotel as soon as we’ve sorted out a few things here. We just have to wait for Ron, who’s the resident manager here in Selendang: he’s talking to the captain. As if on cue, Ron and the captain came to join them.

Ron smiled amiably and proffered a hand. Welcome to Selendang, Doctor Foster. I’m Ron Snow. I look after the Selendang end of the operations. He turned to Doug. We can sort out the shipment details later; the crew are stopping for lunch now, anyway. I suggest you get Doctor Foster settled in to the hotel. You can drop me off on the way, and this afternoon we can finish checking our stores and go through the manifest to see what new stuff has arrived. He nodded to the captain, picked up Julie’s case and headed for Doug’s jeep.

You must be feeling pretty shell-shocked after all this travelling, Doctor Foster, said Ron as they headed into the town.

Yes, sighed Julie. I hadn’t expected such a long journey, especially the sea voyage, though that helped in a way, as I found it relaxing. By the way, please call me Julie, I don’t care much for formality. Besides, she glanced at Doug, it might be less confusing in case anybody else is expecting a man.

Doug said nothing. Ron guessed their earlier assumption had led to some kind of misunderstanding between Doug and their new arrival, and smiled at Doug’s obvious discomfiture. Luckily for Ron, the captain had pointed out Doctor Foster to him. They soon reached Ron’s house, and Doug was glad to be able to change the subject. I’ll see you after lunch, he said as Ron slid out of the jeep.

Okay, replied Ron, but wait just a moment while I check something. Ron went into the house and returned a few minutes later to say that they were both invited for dinner that evening. They both thanked Ron, and Doug drove on to the hotel.

The manager was at the reception desk when Julie checked in. Welcome to the Hotel Amsterdam, Doctor Foster, he smiled. I do hope you will be comfortable with us. I must say, you come as something of a surprise, as Doug told me you would be a man.

That’s what he told me, too, replied Julie, sarcastically, but, as you can see, he was wrong.

A porter came to show Julie to her room. Doug decided not to accompany them, but asked Julie whether she would join him for lunch. Julie did not want to offend Doug, especially as she thought, in retrospect, that she had been a little hard on him, but, since she had stepped off the boat, the stress of the journey had begun to catch up with her, and she was feeling dizzy and disorientated. That would be nice but, frankly, I’m feeling rather wrung out, and not really hungry, she mumbled. I hope you won’t take it amiss if I just crash out for a while.

"That’s okay, perhaps