Blood-drenched Beard

That morning he crosses the next hill and comes out on Luz Beach and then the sandbar at the entrance to Ibiraquera Lagoon. There a strong, icy wind blows in, and he starts to tremble violently with cold. He eats the rest of the food in his backpack, and instead of continuing along the beach, he takes the dirt road and walks to the first junction. Cars go past from time to time but don’t stop. Finally the driver of a white pickup sees him signaling for a lift and pulls over. He greets the man through the crack in the window.

Morning.

Afternoon.

Where are you headed?

To Tubarão. I’m going to get on the interstate.

Hmm.

Where do you want to go?

Garopaba.

I can leave you in Araçatuba.

That’ll work. Thanks.

The dog’ll have to ride in the back.

I’ll ride with her. She might jump out.

The chubby blond man looks straight ahead, with one hand on the gear stick and the other on the steering wheel with a lit cigarette. His skin is a little reddish, and he is unshaven. He is wearing a gray knitted sweater, a scarf, and a beret. The stench of tar wafts through the window. The windshield wipers squeak against the glass three times.

Ah, what the hell, get in.

He leans across to unlock the passenger door.

With the dog?

He nods and waves them in.

He puts his backpack in the middle seat and settles the dog at his feet.

I’m going to get your car all wet.

Don’t worry, it’ll dry as soon as the sun comes out.

The pickup rattles on the road dug out by the rain. The driver blows his smoke through a crack in the window and clears his throat from time to time.

Where’re you coming from?

Garopaba, actually.

You work here in Ibiraquera?

No, just hiking around a bit.

In the rain?

I left home thinking it was going to stop in two or three days, but I’m not so sure it was a good idea.

The flood in Blumenau’s looking pretty ugly. A friend of mine works at the Port of Itajaí and said the water hasn’t stopped rising.

Really? Flooding?

Haven’t you seen it on TV? It’s all they’ve been talking about. They’re collecting donations for the flood victims now, and the thieving’s already started. Not to mention that now they’ve got an excuse to put off the expansion of the highway for another few years. Every month of delay is worth another ten-bedroom mansion on a hill. In a nature reserve, of course. Contractors, suppliers — everyone’s swimming in federal money. It was supposed to be ready in 2008. In the original plan they forgot to include Laguna Bridge, the Morro dos Cavalos Tunnel, a whole bunch of things. Now they’re saying it’ll be ready in 2010. I’ll tell you when it’ll be ready. Never. Literally never. When a section of highway is ready, another section that was ready two years earlier will need to be rebuilt. The tarmac they’re using is like eggshells. The pilfering’s never-ending.

Do you use the highway a lot?

All the time. I’m an engineer. I’ve got two houses under construction here, and I came to take a look at them because of all the rain. My clients wanted them ready by December, but I told them not to hold their breath.

The headlights of an old truck appear halfway around a bend, and the pickup skids and almost slides into a ditch at the side of the road. The engineer curses.

Fucking bastard.

Look what I found when I was walking over the headlands.

He opens the side pocket of his backpack and takes out the two arrow tips.

What’re those?

Arrow tips.

The driver flicks his cigarette butt through the crack in the window and takes his eyes off the highway for a second to glance at the two triangular stones that he is holding up in his palm.

Are you sure?

Yep — look at the chipped edges. The stone is smooth. It was polished.

The driver turns his head again but this time looks not at the stone but at him, giving him a quick once-over. The conversation dies. As he gets out, he apologizes for having got the seat of his car all wet and offers him one of the arrow tips as a present. The driver thanks him and puts it in his glove compartment.

He tries to hitch another lift at the side of the road near the turnoff to Araçatuba, but no one stops. He is starting to feel hungry, so he goes into a diner and orders two meat pasties and a Coke. The girl at the cash register turns her head to the back of the establishment, looking for someone who isn’t there, then looks at him.

Have you got money?

Of course I have.