Siri followed Civilai’s gaze to a dusty old man in a threadbare navy blue uniform with arrows sticking out of it.

“All ages and types ready to hit the road,” said Civilai.

Two young boys of about twelve sat in the front row. They were identical down to the shoes and the pigtails. One had his arm over the other’s shoulder. Auntie Bpoo called the flight number and the boys stood and turned to face each other. One boy’s nose was bleeding. The other smiled and wiped away the blood with his scarf, then handed it to the brother as a keepsake.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” said Bpoo over the loudspeaker. “You can board now.”

Only one boy was leaving. The other watched his brother exit the lounge and walk to the pink and purple airplane and when he was out of sight the other twin sat. Without warning, his head split in half like a fresh watermelon and Bpoo called for a cleaning crew to mop up the debris.

“That was messy,” said Siri.

“I’m ready to board, too,” said Civilai. “There’s peace at the end of this. I thought I’d stay to make you happy but you aren’t. Like you, I’m just clutching at straws. My being on call won’t make you any more content. Best to be off.”

They stood. Hugging would have been a waste of time but they didn’t need nerves or body mass to smile at each other one last time. When Civilai was the last passenger in the line to pass through the departure gate, he showed Bpoo his ID. Siri shouted from across the room, “Are you sure I’m not dead?”

“Of course you’re not dead, you fool,” Daeng whispered in his ear.

Siri was on a mattress. He was surrounded by people with concerned looks on their faces. The guesthouse owner and his wife were there. There was Roper and the two girls. There were one or two new guesthouse patrons he recognized, not including the guest in room 4, who remained mysterious. There was a man in the top half of a policeman’s uniform with basketball shorts below, and Daeng. And seated back-to-back on the floor, handcuffed together, were two very shady characters who looked like they’d been run over by a herd of buffalo.

“Are they part of this story?” Siri asked sheepishly.

“The gentleman on the left, the one with the long greasy hair, that’s Big Daddy,” said Daeng.

“You don’t say?”

“He didn’t take the girl-power rebellion in his village very well. He came to town to get his children back and get even.”

“What happened?”

“Hand grenade,” said Roper. “Booby trap. Blew the door to your room right off. No idea how you survived it.”

Siri looked up into the knowing eyes of Daeng and pushed himself into a sitting position.

“I’ll tell you later,” she whispered.