Read Online Out of Order by Charles Benoit - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charles Benoit
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street-side bazaar.
Jason scrambled to his feet, leaning over the railing far enough to see the monkey as it bounded across the tattered awning of a typewriter repair shop and onto the roof of an idling delivery truck, the backpack banging against its metal sides. The monkey paused long enough to look up at Jason, then jumped onto the hood of a passing Mercedes. The driver slammed on the brakes and hit the horn. The monkey glared at the driver, snapping off a windshield wiper before it climbed over the roof and onto a street sign. From there it scurried across a camel-driven cart hauling trash, bounced in and out of the seat of a bicycle rickshaw, along the tops of a row of tightly packed Ambassador sedans and up a hand-lettered sign that was topped by a painting of a rotten tooth. Reaching the roof of the one-story building across the street, the monkey sat down to appraise its loot.
“Oh, shit,” Jason said, fixing the location of the thief before racing down the open stairs, Rachel right behind him.
“You are wasting your time,” Attar shouted to them from the balcony as they burst out onto the sidewalk, rushing headlong into the traffic. “You will never see your luggage again.” Jason saw a few people pointing up at the monkey and a few more pointing at him, but for most Jaipurians the site of a felonious monkey or a panicked tourist did not merit attention.
“It’s right there,” Rachel said, pointing over the roof of a bakery. Jason glanced up, nodded and ran into the shop.
“Excuse me,” he said, his words rushing together. “There’s a monkey. On your roof. Up there. He’s got my bag. I need….”
The owner of the shop kept his eyes on his newspaper, jerking his thumb towards a dark stairwell that ran up the back wall. They stumbled up the tight stairway, spilling out onto the rooftop that served as a block-long patio for the pink-walled apartments set back on the building. Old men sat in folding chairs, spitting streams of red betel juice into plastic buckets while toddlers stood at the edge of the roof, tossing pebbles onto the cars below. A group of teenage boys, dressed in matching white shirts and blue trousers, sprawled on the blazing pink concrete, checking their cell phones and singing Indian pop tunes. When they noticed Jason and Rachel they stood up, shouting out the few English words they thought they knew.
“Over there,” Rachel said, spotting the monkey as it bit the top off a tube of Crest. It was sitting with its back to them, one leg dangling over the side of the building.
Jason held her back. “If we scare it it’ll just run away. You go that way,” he said, pointing far to the monkey’s left. “I’ll come in from here. Try to box it in.”
“Then what? I’m not going to get rabies just to save your underwear.”
“Maybe he’ll drop it. If you can, try to grab the bag.”
“Well, I’m sure as hell not going to grab the monkey,” she said and maneuvered her way across the roof.
Jason kept his eyes on the animal, trying to sneak up without tripping over the satellite dish wires and plastic piping that ran the length of the building. The monkey was busy tearing open a zippered-shut side pocket. He didn’t want to think of what the razor-taloned thief would do with a red silk sari.
“Good morning mister sir,” one of the teens said, stepping up to walk with Jason.
“I’m kind of busy here,” Jason said. The monkey’s tail gave a flick but the rest of the monkey sat still on the ledge.
“Part of this nutritional breakfast,” the teen replied. “Merry Christmas. Star Wars. Michael Jordan.”
Jason watched the furry gray back as he continued his flanking movement, the monkey flinging a packet of disposable razors out into the street.
“Four, five, six, seven,” the teen said, adding “Happy birthday” before breaking into a toothy grin.
“Shhhh,” Jason whispered. “I need to get my backpack away from the monkey.” He pointed just as his
Jason scrambled to his feet, leaning over the railing far enough to see the monkey as it bounded across the tattered awning of a typewriter repair shop and onto the roof of an idling delivery truck, the backpack banging against its metal sides. The monkey paused long enough to look up at Jason, then jumped onto the hood of a passing Mercedes. The driver slammed on the brakes and hit the horn. The monkey glared at the driver, snapping off a windshield wiper before it climbed over the roof and onto a street sign. From there it scurried across a camel-driven cart hauling trash, bounced in and out of the seat of a bicycle rickshaw, along the tops of a row of tightly packed Ambassador sedans and up a hand-lettered sign that was topped by a painting of a rotten tooth. Reaching the roof of the one-story building across the street, the monkey sat down to appraise its loot.
“Oh, shit,” Jason said, fixing the location of the thief before racing down the open stairs, Rachel right behind him.
“You are wasting your time,” Attar shouted to them from the balcony as they burst out onto the sidewalk, rushing headlong into the traffic. “You will never see your luggage again.” Jason saw a few people pointing up at the monkey and a few more pointing at him, but for most Jaipurians the site of a felonious monkey or a panicked tourist did not merit attention.
“It’s right there,” Rachel said, pointing over the roof of a bakery. Jason glanced up, nodded and ran into the shop.
“Excuse me,” he said, his words rushing together. “There’s a monkey. On your roof. Up there. He’s got my bag. I need….”
The owner of the shop kept his eyes on his newspaper, jerking his thumb towards a dark stairwell that ran up the back wall. They stumbled up the tight stairway, spilling out onto the rooftop that served as a block-long patio for the pink-walled apartments set back on the building. Old men sat in folding chairs, spitting streams of red betel juice into plastic buckets while toddlers stood at the edge of the roof, tossing pebbles onto the cars below. A group of teenage boys, dressed in matching white shirts and blue trousers, sprawled on the blazing pink concrete, checking their cell phones and singing Indian pop tunes. When they noticed Jason and Rachel they stood up, shouting out the few English words they thought they knew.
“Over there,” Rachel said, spotting the monkey as it bit the top off a tube of Crest. It was sitting with its back to them, one leg dangling over the side of the building.
Jason held her back. “If we scare it it’ll just run away. You go that way,” he said, pointing far to the monkey’s left. “I’ll come in from here. Try to box it in.”
“Then what? I’m not going to get rabies just to save your underwear.”
“Maybe he’ll drop it. If you can, try to grab the bag.”
“Well, I’m sure as hell not going to grab the monkey,” she said and maneuvered her way across the roof.
Jason kept his eyes on the animal, trying to sneak up without tripping over the satellite dish wires and plastic piping that ran the length of the building. The monkey was busy tearing open a zippered-shut side pocket. He didn’t want to think of what the razor-taloned thief would do with a red silk sari.
“Good morning mister sir,” one of the teens said, stepping up to walk with Jason.
“I’m kind of busy here,” Jason said. The monkey’s tail gave a flick but the rest of the monkey sat still on the ledge.
“Part of this nutritional breakfast,” the teen replied. “Merry Christmas. Star Wars. Michael Jordan.”
Jason watched the furry gray back as he continued his flanking movement, the monkey flinging a packet of disposable razors out into the street.
“Four, five, six, seven,” the teen said, adding “Happy birthday” before breaking into a toothy grin.
“Shhhh,” Jason whispered. “I need to get my backpack away from the monkey.” He pointed just as his
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