A light drizzle fell as he ran through the streets, probably faster than was safe on the slippery pavement. The future was ahead of him. He could taste it. When he thought of how open and optimistic the comrades had been, he felt ashamed. Why had he thought the natural state of man was to be cynical and suspicious, like himself? That’s how far he’d been deformed by the system. If everyone was selfish and mistrusting, they would all die alone. He was going to join the struggle to smash the barriers keeping everyone down, and without the oppressors forcing them to compete against each other, they’d be free to unite. It was so simple. Why had he ever been unsure?

He gave the password and slipped into the hall. Siew Li saw him and came over right away, radiant. She’d looked at him and known. “I’m joining you,” he said, and she pressed her lips to his, just for a moment, so quickly it might almost not have happened. She took his hand. “Come, they’ll tell you what you need to do next. I’m so happy.” He followed behind her, unable to name the feelings bubbling inside him, knowing only they felt barely contained, as if he might explode at any moment.

•

Only a few of them were to enter the jungle at the same time—this was usual, going in small groups to avoid detection. A little before midnight, they arrived one by one at the meeting place, a disused petrol station some distance from the main road, knowing each other from the identifying marks: a red cloth tied around one wrist, a cigarette behind the left ear. There were four others besides him, all young men. They nodded, but no one wanted to be the first to speak. He wondered if Siew Li was elsewhere at that moment, meeting her own group, all of them droplets of water trickling towards the vast ocean.

He smelled frangipani in the air. The Malays said this meant a pontianak was in the vicinity, waiting to tear your soft belly open with her claws and devour your insides with her comely mouth. A dog howled, far away. The air was thick and heavy, heat rising like a plague from the dark tar of the road. He thought of his mother, wished he could have left her a note. He thought about the many branches of Sungai Sendat, the streams across Batang Kali he would never see again. All these years, and he’d never looked for his father’s grave. That was behind him now, the river moving inexorably onwards, new lands ahead.