Crybaby - Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen of the blockbuster new novel, Crybaby by best selling, multi-award-winning author Mark Watson...

CRYBABY

©Copyright 2024 by Mark Watson

CHAPTER 13

Bheema and Jagan

Ahanna sat at her small desk in the Onion House, the soft hum of the overhead fan doing little to ease the weight of exhaustion settling in her bones. The sun had set hours ago, but the events of the day had left her restless, and there was still much work to be done. Crybaby's recent attack on the sugarcane truck, recently reported and now common knowledge had made it clear that the situation was escalating. They needed all hands on deck — and that included the trained elephants she had requested. There was no way to traverse the rainforest without them.

With a sigh, Ahanna glanced at the clock. It was well past 11 p.m., but her boss, DFO Mahesh Sharma, had promised to call. She’d been waiting for this conversation all day. Her fingers drummed impatiently on the desk as the phone rang, breaking the silence of the room.

She picked it up on the first ring.

"Ahanna speaking."

“Ahanna, it’s Mahesh,” came the gruff, authoritative voice on the other end of the line. “I understand you’ve been waiting for an update on the elephant unit. I’ve just come out of a meeting about it.”

"Yes, sir. I was hoping for some good news," she said, trying to keep her frustration in check. "The situation here with the rogue elephant Crybaby is getting out of hand. The latest attack happened today — a truck carrying sugarcane was destroyed. Thankfully, no one was hurt, but it's only a matter of time before it kills again."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, as though Mahesh was weighing his words carefully. "I’m aware of the severity of the situation, Ahanna. Believe me, I know how dangerous this rogue elephant is. But there’s a complication."

Ahanna’s heart sank. She had been anticipating this conversation, but not another delay. "What kind of complication?"

“The elephant unit we were going to deploy to your region is being held up. There’s an emergency near the wetlands — a situation we weren’t expecting. A herd of wild elephants has broken through the boundaries of a protected area and caused a significant amount of damage to several farming communities.”

“More elephants?” Ahanna asked, incredulous. She could hear the exasperation creeping into her voice. “Isn’t that exactly what the ranger elephants are supposed to handle? Why not just send a different team to deal with the wetlands issue?”

Mahesh sighed, his tone growing heavier. “It’s not that simple. The situation in the wetlands is more complicated than just boundary breakage. The herd is led by a matriarch that’s been severely injured — likely by poachers — and she’s become aggressive. She’s attacking anything that comes near her. Our people on the ground say the WHOLE herd is agitated and unpredictable, and that includes calves. We need our elephants there to safely guide the herd back without causing chaos. If we don’t handle this carefully, we’re going to have a full-scale disaster on our hands.”

Ahanna slumped back in her chair, rubbing her temples as the weight of the news settled in. "So you're telling me that our elephants won't be coming here anytime soon?"

"That’s exactly what I’m saying," Mahesh replied, his voice firm but apologetic. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the reality. We simply don’t have enough resources to manage both crises at the same time.”

“But sir, you know what we’re dealing with here," Ahanna pressed. "Crybaby isn't just any elephant. He’s killed people. He’s destroyed the tourist industry here, the police station, the post office, and now he's smashing up trucks on the highway. We can’t predict when or where he’ll strike next. The villagers are terrified, and without the elephant unit, our options for controlling him are shrinking by the day.”

"I understand that, Ahanna," Mahesh said quietly, his tone softening. "And believe me, I’m not underestimating the danger Crybaby poses. But right now, the herd in the wetlands presents an immediate threat to human lives as well. We had to make a decision. We’re stretched thin."

Ahanna clenched her jaw, biting back her frustration. She knew Mahesh wasn’t the type to make decisions lightly, but that didn’t make the situation any easier. "So what am I supposed to do in the meantime?" she asked, her voice taut with tension. "We can't just sit here and wait for Crybaby to take more lives."

"We’re going to reinforce your team with additional rangers,” Mahesh said. “They’ll help with patrols, and fortifying the village. But without the trained elephants, Ahanna, you’ll have to rely on whatever resources are already in place to contain Crybaby until we can shift the unit back to you.”

Ahanna let out a slow breath, leaning forward in her chair. She knew what this meant. They were on their own — at least for now.

"Rahul’s set up a watchtower," she said, more to herself than to Mahesh. "He’s determined to take Crybaby down. We’ve been trying to keep the village safe, but the villagers are frightened, and I don’t think I can stop Rahul from going after Crybaby directly. If that happens…”

“You’ll need to control the situation, Ahanna,” Mahesh cut in, his voice firm. “I know the kind of man Rahul is. He won’t wait for the perfect opportunity — he’ll make his move when he thinks he can, whether you’re ready or not. Keep your eyes on him, and do whatever you can to avoid any confrontation between him and the elephant. He may be brave, but Crybaby is more than just a rogue tusker. He's dangerous and unpredictable.”

Ahanna stared at the far wall of her office, her mind racing with thoughts of Rahul and his watchtower. The mounting tension in the village, and now the knowledge that the support they desperately needed was delayed. Time was running out, she could feel it slipping through her fingers.

"I’ll do what I can," she finally said, her voice steady but weary. "But if Crybaby comes to the village again, I’m not sure we can stop him without killing him."

“I have faith in you,” Mahesh replied. “You’re resourceful, and you understand these animals better than anyone. Keep it together, use what you have, and keep the villagers as safe as you can. The elephant unit will come, just not as soon as we hoped.”

There was a brief pause before Mahesh continued. “I’ll call you as soon as anything changes. Until then, stay vigilant. And Ahanna — watch Rahul. We can’t afford any reckless moves right now.”

“I will, sir,” Ahanna said, though her mind was already racing with what to do next.

The line clicked, and the call ended, leaving Ahanna in the dim light of her office, the weight of responsibility pressing down harder than ever.

She placed the phone back on the cradle and stood, staring out of the plastic sheet covered window at the darkened jungle beyond. Somewhere out there, Crybaby was moving through the trees like a living storm. The trained elephants weren’t coming. They were alone, and the battle against the rogue elephant was far from over.

With a deep breath, she turned and grabbed her radio.

"Team, this is Ahanna. It is as we thought. The elephant unit isn't coming — we’re on our own."

---

The next day, the village was alive with activity, its narrow dirt streets bustling with people preparing for the upcoming festival, now only a few days away. Despite the looming threat and although the mayor had said the festival would be cancelled, the villagers were determined not to let fear rob them of their most cherished tradition. The annual harvest festival had always been the heart of village life—a celebration of the land, the bounty it provided, and the strength of the community that depended on it.

Rahul, standing near the entrance of the village, watched as the preparations unfolded. Women carried baskets of brightly colored marigolds and jasmine garlands, their laughter ringing through the air as they decorated the tiny village square. Men worked tirelessly to set up the temporary stalls, arranging vibrant fabrics to shield the festivalgoers from the sun. Children chased one another through the lanes, their excitement palpable, despite their parents’ worried glances toward the distant jungle.

In the center of the village square, the old banyan tree stood tall, its roots twisting and turning like ancient fingers through the earth. It was around this tree that the festival would culminate in a grand prayer, thanking the gods for the harvest and seeking their protection for the year to come. A large platform was being constructed at its base, where the elders would offer the ceremonial offerings to the gods.

Rahul stepped aside as a group of young men carried a large clay statue of the village deity toward the shrine that had been freshly painted in vivid reds and yellows. They struggled under its weight but pushed forward with determination, pausing only briefly to catch their breath.

"Careful, careful!" shouted one of the old women, her hands on her hips as she directed the young men with the precision of a general. "That statue is older than all of you! Drop it and you'll answer to the gods themselves."

Rahul couldn’t help but smile at the sight. This was what made the secluded village special—the strength of its people, their resilience. They had faced floods, droughts, and, now, the terror of a rogue elephant, but still, they carried on. The festival was their way of asserting that life would continue, no matter what.

As he moved through the village, nodding greetings to familiar faces, Rahul’s thoughts remained divided. On one hand, the festival was an important tradition, a time for celebration and unity. But on the other, Crybaby was out there, somewhere in the jungle, waiting to strike. News of the attack on the sugarcane truck had come through late last night. He had built the watchtower, prepared his men, and stocked explosives, but the festival brought a new complication—too many people gathered in one place, too many lives at risk if Crybaby decided to attack the village.

“Eh Rahul!” a young voice called out, pulling him from his thoughts.

He turned to see little Meera, her face beaming with excitement, holding a handful of marigold petals. “Are you going to help decorate the square?”

Rahul knelt down, smiling at her infectious enthusiasm. “I think you and your friends are doing a much better job than I ever could,” he said, gesturing to the strings of flowers being woven around the square. “But I’ll be around to keep an eye on things.”

She scrunched her nose. “You’re always watching, but never having fun! This is a festival. You should be helping!”

Rahul chuckled, patting her on the head. “Maybe later. Right now, I have to make sure everything is safe.”

As Meera ran off to join her friends, Ahanna approached, her ranger uniform contrasting sharply with the colorful saris and kurtas of the villagers. She had been making her rounds, quietly assessing the preparations while keeping an ear out for any news of Crybaby. There was an unspoken tension between them. Rahul knew she was trying to prevent him from taking matters into his own hands when it came to the rogue elephant, but they both knew how unpredictable things had become.

"Ahanna," Rahul greeted, straightening up as she reached him. "What do you think? The festival looks like it will be lively."

“It does,” she replied, her eyes scanning the crowd. "But going ahead with this will be very risky."

Rahul nodded, his expression hardening. “I’ve already posted extra lookouts along the edge of the village. We’ll double the patrols during the festival. And if Crybaby comes anywhere near, we’ll deal with him before he can get close.”

“Your men may not be enough,” Ahanna said quietly, though her gaze remained on the villagers. “The elephant unit isn’t coming anytime soon. You’re playing a dangerous game here.”

“I’m aware,” Rahul replied, a hint of steel in his voice. “But the festival is important. You know that. People need this. We can’t let Crybaby dictate our lives.”

Ahanna sighed, but she understood. The village needed a moment of normalcy, even if it was fleeting. Still, the weight of responsibility pressed on her, knowing that one wrong move could lead to disaster. “Just promise me you’ll stay cautious,” she said, her tone softening. “If Crybaby shows up, we’ll need to act fast.”

Rahul nodded. “You have my word.”

Just then, a group of musicians began setting up near the platform, tuning their traditional instruments—flutes, drums, and sitars. The sound of the first notes filled the air, and for a brief moment, the worries of the jungle and the lurking danger faded away. The villagers gathered in small groups, laughing and chatting, their spirits lifted by the promise of celebration.

At the heart of it all, the preparations continued—women stringing flowers, men hammering the final nails into the stage, children running through the square in excitement. Colorful lanterns were hung from tree branches, casting soft, flickering light as the evening began to settle in.

Rahul and Ahanna watched in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The village was preparing for joy, but in the back of their minds, both knew the storm that loomed on the horizon—a killer elephant that did not care for festivals or traditions.

Rahul clenched his fists briefly, then forced himself to relax. The festival would happen. The village would celebrate. And when Crybaby came, Rahul would kill it, stone dead.

---

The flickering light of the oil lantern cast long, shifting shadows on the rough stone walls of the old hilltop fort. The hideout, once a proud bastion of forgotten history, had fallen into disrepair over the years, but to the hilltop bandits, it was home — or at least, it had been, until things started to get complicated.

Bheema and Jagan sat across from each other at a makeshift table, the stale air thick with the smell of damp stone and smoke from their earlier campfire. Outside, the forest stretched out beneath them, a dark sea of trees with the occasional cry of a nocturnal animal breaking the silence.

But inside the hideout, it was quiet.

Bheema, Rahul’s trusted lieutenant, leaned in closer to Jagan, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s getting worse. You’ve heard the talk, haven’t you?”

Jagan, a wiry man with sharp eyes and quick hands, nodded, his gaze flicking toward the door as if expecting someone to burst in at any moment. “Rahul’s going mad with this Crybaby nonsense. He thinks he can take down a rogue elephant with a handful of men and a pile of explosives. I’m telling you, Bheema, this is the end for us if we keep following him.”

Bheema clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck tensing. “That’s what I’ve been thinking. That fucking tiger nearly killed us, and now all Rahul talks about is protecting that damn village. This isn’t what we signed up for.”

Jagan grinned, his teeth flashing in the dim light. “No, it’s not. We signed up for gold, Bheema. For a chance at a life where we don’t have to sleep with one eye open, waiting for a fucking crazy, giant elephant to crush us or for Rahul to send us on another suicidal mission.”

Bheema’s eyes narrowed. “The stash.”

At the mention of the word, the air between them seemed to thicken. Both men knew what it meant. Hidden away at the back of the fort was the gold — recently diverted from a smuggling operation through the local airport. It was a fortune. Enough to disappear, enough to start fresh somewhere far from the shadow of Crybaby and the demands of Rahul.

“Rahul’s not paying attention,” Jagan said, his voice low and calculated. “He’s too busy with the rangers and his new watchtower. And now he’s got us hunting an elephant like we’re some kind of fucking wildlife expert. Meanwhile, the gold’s just sitting here, waiting for someone with the guts to take it.”

Bheema grunted, his fingers tapping nervously on the edge of the table. “We’ve been loyal for years. He gave us a place when no one else would, Jagan. We owe him.”

“Owe him?” Jagan scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “We’ve done enough for him, Bheema. I’d be fucking tiger meat now if that cop hadn’t shot it. Rahul used us when it suited him. And now, he’s leading us down a path that ends with either Crybaby’s tusks through our chests or us in chains. Look around you—there’s no loyalty in this life. Not anymore.”

Bheema’s brow furrowed, but Jagan could see the uncertainty in his eyes.

Jagan leaned forward again, his voice soft but insistent. “Listen to me. We take the gold tonight. Before anyone notices. Rahul’s got half the men guarding that watchtower, and the rest are too scared to move with Crybaby lurking around. We take the stash, split it, and get as far from here as we can. There are villages on the other side of the mountains. No one knows us there. We can disappear.”

Bheema didn’t respond immediately, his gaze shifting to the floor. The flicker of doubt danced in his eyes. He’d always been Rahul’s most trusted man, the muscle behind the bandit leader’s ambition. But lately, that trust had come with a price—a price too steep for the rewards they’d been getting. And now, with the threat of the rogue elephant hanging over them, the risk was becoming unbearable.

“I’ve heard Crybaby is near the highway,” Bheema muttered, his voice more to himself than to Jagan. “Rahul will want us out there, hunting the fucking thing. He’ll send us first.”

“Exactly,” Jagan hissed, seizing on Bheema’s doubt. “We’ve already been through hell for him, Bheema. If we stick around, we’re dead men. Crybaby or the rangers—someone will catch up to us. Rahul isn’t thinking straight. He’s obsessed with protecting the village, like it’s some kind of redemption for his past. But that’s not our fight. We need to look out for ourselves now.”

Bheema rubbed his chin, the stubble coarse under his fingers. He thought of the last few days — the tension in the fort, Rahul’s increasingly erratic orders, and the constant threat of either Crybaby or Susanna rampaging through the jungle. Every night, the men spoke in hushed tones, wondering if tomorrow would be their last.

“Where would we go?” Bheema asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Jagan smiled, sensing that Bheema was beginning to come around. “I’ve got a contact up North. A smuggler. We can use the gold to get new identities, buy ourselves a place in the hills, away from all of this. He’s done it before for other men who wanted to vanish. We could live like kings compared to this.”

Bheema was silent for a long moment, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. He thought of the fort, of the years spent following Rahul, of the camaraderie they had once shared. But Jagan was right. Things had changed. The village had changed Rahul, turned him into something softer, something weaker. And weakness in their world got you killed.

“All right,” Bheema finally said, his voice barely audible. “We do it tonight. But we have to be careful. If Rahul catches wind of this, he’ll kill us before we even make it out of the fort.”

Jagan’s grin widened, but his eyes remained cold and calculating. “Don’t worry, Bheema. We’re smarter than him. We’ll be long gone before he even knows what happened.”

Bheema nodded, though a part of him still felt the pang of betrayal. He pushed it aside. Survival was the only thing that mattered now.

“Meet me at the hidden chamber after midnight,” Jagan whispered, standing up from the table and adjusting his shirt. “We’ll take what’s ours and disappear.”

As Jagan slipped out of the room, Bheema remained seated, his hands resting on the rough wood of the table. The gold was their ticket out, but the cost of betrayal would haunt him.

He glanced toward the door, where Jagan had just disappeared into the shadows. The path ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear—he would not die hunting Crybaby. Not for Rahul. Not for anyone.

Tonight, they would make their move. And when the sun rose, they would be long gone.

---

END OF CHAPTER THIRTEEN

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