Gavin’s hangover was easing up as he nursed his first beer, sitting outside of a beach bar in the Philippines, the sun low in the sky. The fishermen had already beached their skiffs and were sorting the day’s catch along the shore, while the squid fleets were prepping to go out for the night. Once darkness fell, the bright lights of the ships would beam down towards the ocean floor, fake moons to lure out the cephalopods from below, calling them upwards for their final ascent.
Gavin knew something about hunting—he had built his career acquiring endangered species and their parts. A collector of rare fauna, Gavin didn’t see himself as a wildlife trafficker at first, but that is what he had become. He dealt mainly in reptiles and tropical birds and had a wealthy clientele of exotic pet owners always looking to one-up their billionaire friends. Through his network, he had sniffed out the source of the particular specimen that had eluded him all his life, which had brought him to this Southeast Asian dive bar.
Sitting around and waiting for the seller in such a touristy spot was an unusual change of pace for him. Gavin’s travels for the rare and the exotic had taken him to bizarre places, often locations where outsiders were not welcome. He had taken part in obscene rituals in deserts and jungles among people with whom he could barely communicate. He had come to believe in the strange and the occult, that it was possible to transcend life and death and that nature had the key.
Profit no longer was a motive—Gavin was obsessed with myth and legend, which led him to believe in the rarest of all creatures: the holy grail. Gavin believed that the grail was not a spear or a cup or the blood of a sacred lineage, but rather the remnants of a beast that no longer walked the earth, or an organism that never evolved on this planet at all, but rather had crossed over from a dream, thinking that it was following the moon, and had gotten lost in our world.
The seller Gavin was to meet with this time was of the typical milieu that engaged in illegal wildlife trade, either directly or indirectly through various associations or shell companies or shady middlemen, an entrepreneur that went by Mr. Wang who had stakes in multiple industries. Palm oil, sulphur mines, bars and restaurants that reportedly served as fronts for sex tourism. He was also one of the biggest distributors of Chinese medicine in Southeast Asia, owning several pharmacies and hospitals across the region. He didn’t want to meet Gavin in Manila and had arranged for them to rendezvous in a small port town outside of the city, on the northern end of the island of Mindoro.
Gavin was seated on the veranda of the bar, alone at first, but as night fell the jeepneys rolled in, dropping off others that filled in the empty chairs that faced out towards the sea. A cover band blared from inside the bar and was taking requests from the customers, many of them aging and foreign and male, after doing a set of songs by Journey. If Gavin hadn’t seen them perform, he would have sworn that they were the real thing.
His contact, Mr. Wang, was late. Gavin didn’t want to drink too much while he waited and only ordered one beer when he first arrived, but the girls that worked the bar began to heckle him to buy another, or at least buy something else that they were offering, which they weren’t shy about, given that the bar was called “Mango Lips”. Gavin ordered another beer and then one for each of the girls, who wouldn’t leave his side until he did so. He thought about maybe coming back here another night, when he didn’t have business to attend to, and take one of the girls back to the place he was renting up the road, but he knew that wouldn’t solve anything. He’d still feel just as alone afterwards. Plus, he’d be inviting someone to steal his shit when he had his guard down. As he looked around for a guy who might be Mr. Wang, Gavin caught the eye of the guard who was standing just inside the front door and was clearly armed, his gun drawn but hanging loose at the front of his waist. Gavin didn’t look over again.
He was two beers and three shots deep, courtesy of some of the other foreigners that were seated near him, when Mr. Wang finally showed up. Wang, an older man of undiscernible descent, wrinkled and tan with a shock of thick white hair, limped up the front stairs and asked the small group of girls that swarmed the table to go back inside in a local dialect that Gavin couldn’t place. He wore a gaudy black t-shirt, emblazoned with sequins that formed the shape of a skull.
“You must be Mr. Mayfield,” the old man said in an accent that Gavin also couldn’t place.
“Must I be?” said Gavin. “About time you got here.”
At the table behind them, a group of men began to holler and cheer as one of the bar girls climbed onto their table and danced to the rock covers that poured out of the open-air windows, knocking over half-drunk bottles of San Miguel and Red Horse in the process.
“Why don’t we go somewhere a bit quieter. You look like you could use some food too,” said Wang as he leaned over towards Gavin.
“Did you bring it?” asked Gavin.
“Yes. Yes and no,” said Wang.
“The fuck kind of answer is that?” said Gavin.
“I’ll show you. It’s what you’re looking for, that I can promise,” said Wang. “Let’s get a fish, down by the beach, there is a barbeque there,” he said. “I know where to get good fish,” he smiled, his teeth a gnarly yellow.
Gavin got up and followed Wang down the path that led from the restaurant to the beach, the sounds of music and patrons fading behind them. He had a good buzz going as he kept up with the limping old man, winding in between single-story shanties and clusters of bungalows hidden among the coconut palms. It was dark out now and the lamps were sparse. As they rounded a corner, a woman, or what appeared to be a woman, emerged from behind a palm trunk and stepped towards Gavin.
“Blowjobs,” she whispered.
“Jesus Christ,” said Gavin as he took a step back, startled and nearly stumbling over Wang’s heels. Wang laughed as he caught Gavin, helping him regain his footing.
“Looking to make a pit stop?” said Wang.
Gavin looked at the face of the woman, who was now starting to look more like a man. Not too far from the path, out of the reach of the lights, three figures huddled near the side of a beached boat in the palm grove. One figure was on their knees, the other two standing close around the first, their arms slack, heads bowed, bodies gently rocking back and forth.
“I’ll pass,” said Gavin.
“Just up ahead, the best damn fish you can get around here,” said Wang.
Gavin and Wang came to the end of the path, where the solid ground gave way to sand, on the edge of which stood a wide, open hut with a brazier in the middle. Foldable tables and chairs were planted in the sand. No customers were here yet. A short Filipino man, just over four feet tall, sat on a stool at the bar next to the brazier. A painted sign leaned against the entrance and read “Full Moon Party”.
“Mr. Angeles, good evening! We’ll take a red snapper,” said Wang.
“OK,” said Angeles. “You want milkshake? Full Moon Party tonight,” he said.
“That ought to help you sober up,” said Wang.
“Milkshake and fish. Disgusting. Yeah sure, why not,” said Gavin.
“Special milkshake?” asked Angeles.
“I’ve got that covered, just the regular for us,” said Wang.
Wang and Gavin sat down in the plastic chairs, which sank a bit back, digging into the sand. It was cloudy that night and the moon hadn’t come out. Offshore, the squid fleets were getting into position, their lights already on and blazing a burning white. The seas were calm and the waves barely made a sound as they broke weakly on the shore, which was littered with fragments of dead, bleached coral.
“What’s up with your limp?” asked Gavin.
“Old war injury. Never healed right,” said Wang.
“Which war?” asked Gavin.
“From before your time,” said Wang.
“I’m not as young as I look,” said Gavin.
“The opposite is probably true for me,” laughed Wang.
Angeles brought over the milkshakes and set them down on the foldable table. “Fish don’t long time,” said Angeles.
“Look, about the product,” started Gavin.
Wang reached into his pocket and took out a small plastic bag. It was filled with a white powder. He tossed it on the table.
“Behold, your grail,” said Wang.
Gavin picked up the bag and held it up to his face. He flicked the corner of it. “I’m sure this is a good time, but where is the product we discussed. The animal horn?” he asked.
“It’s what’s left of the horn,” said Wang. “I have some more, but I’m running out.”
“What’s left of it?” said Gavin.
“I’ve been harvesting it. You can shave it down, but not too much. It grows back slowly, you see,” said Wang.
“No, I don’t really see. What did you do with the horn?” said Gavin as he dropped the bag on the table.
Wang pointed out towards the ocean, towards the anchored fishing ships. “It’s down there somewhere,” he said.
“It’s in the water? Why is the product I came here all the way for in the fucking water?” said Gavin.
“I had to dump it. Years ago. Maybe a decade? I’m bad with time. My ship was getting boarded by the marine police. Big international sting with Interpol and the WCO. I knew they would confiscate the horn, so I chucked it. I wasn’t as big as I am now, there was no way to bribe them,” said Wang.
“You’re telling me that the holy grail is at the bottom of the ocean?” said Gavin.
“Why are you so upset? I’m the one who should be upset. Do you know how long that thing has kept me alive?” said Wang, as he picked up the bag, and opening it, emptied its powdery contents into his milkshake. “Drink with me and I’ll explain,” he said.
“Like hell I’m going to drink that,” said Gavin.
“If you want the horn, you’ll drink with me,” said Wang before he chugged half his glass.
Gavin wasn’t pleased about it but he emptied the other half of the bag into his drink and began to sip at it.
“That’s the spirit,” said Wang. “Those squid ships out there are mine, but I run trawlers all across the South China Sea,” said Wang, pointing east and west of the ships in the distance.
“You think that you’ll really dredge it back up?” said Gavin.
“I own dive shops too, but that’s not very effective,” said Wang. “One way or another, I’ll find it again.”
“How did you find the horn in the first place?” asked Gavin.
“I acquired it from a merchant in the Middle East,” said Wang. “I had a caravan a long time ago, my first business, that followed a route along the Silk Road,” said Wang. “I purchased the horn, thinking it would be good for Chinese medicine—which is still a thriving business these days—but it had some unexpected properties when consumed. Cheers,” said Wang as he raised his glass towards Gavin.
Wang finished his milkshake, but Gavin did not. He simply stared into the frothy glass, wondering what he had just ingested.
Angeles brought over the grilled snapper and placed it on their table. It was huge, more than enough for two, and shone a brilliant red. Its tail and fins were singed with char, as if it had tried to outswim the eruption of an underwater volcano.
“I found the grail without even looking for it. Korn, French for horn, or maybe was it Welsh. It’s been a while. Either way, it was historically confused with il corps, the body,” said Wang. “Or at least that’s what the monks in Ireland said, last time I spoke with them,” he said. “Do you speak Gaelic?” asked Wang.
“Do I look like I speak Gaelic?” said Gavin.
“You never know, it’s the 21st century. It’s the 21st century, isn’t it?” said Wang as he looked at his watch.
“I don’t know Gaelic, but I am Welsh and happen to know some French. I spent time in Vietnam. I thought for a while that the grail was there, before I heard that you might be in possession of it. There were several unexplained occurrences of stigmata there some years back.”
“An unfortunate incident. I stopped selling the powder after that. It occasionally makes people break out in hives. Weeping wounds on their hands and feet that never heal right. Nasty stuff. But only if you snort it,” said Wang.
Gavin suddenly realized how hungry he was and tore into the fish with his fork, pulling big meaty chunks of white flesh from its side.
“Damn, this is a good fish,” said Gavin as he stuffed his mouth.
“I knew you’d like it,” said Wang. “The catch is lower these days. Overfishing and all. It’s also harder to recruit good people to work the boats,” he said.
“It must pay all right for these parts,” said Gavin.
“Pay? Oh no, I don’t pay them,” said Wang. “They have to earn their keep. Maintaining a fleet in a market where your stock is dwindling, pushing out into deeper and deeper waters to break even. Evading the police, dealing with mutinous crew. All the human rights organizations are on to us now, it’s just not what it used to be,” he said.
Gavin swallowed his fish. He started to feel funny.
“That bar we met at, you own that bar,” said Gavin.
“Of course I do, and many others like it,” said Wang.
“And when the girls get older, you put them on the boats,” said Gavin.
“Some of them, yes. But they’re mostly good for attracting young men to work the trawlers,” said Wang.
“They don’t ever come off the boats, do they?” asked Gavin.
“For the most part, no. They rest at sea when they are done. There are limits to the human body,” said Wang.
Gavin did not feel well and stood up. The beach and the trees, the sand and the hut, everything swam around him and blurred together.
“Why don’t we go for a walk? It’s good to move around,” said Wang.
Gavin moved away from the table, swaying violently, and headed towards what he guessed was the beach. He looked to his side but Wang was gone. The tables and chairs and hut with the brazier were also gone.
He walked on the beach, heading towards the water, finally reaching it after what felt like hours.
Gavin was drawn to the water by the bioluminescence that churned in the surf. He walked up to the edge and splashed his foot around, watching the flickers of blue and green light disappear as the water calmed. It felt good to the touch. Peaceful. Ahead of him, down the shore, he watched as a naked woman walked out of the ocean. What had she been doing in there, Gavin thought. She was not from around here. The woman was tall and toned and had long, thick, red hair, red like the color of spilled blood. He watched as she pulled her hair back, revealing her white breasts, and wrung the water from her hair, squeezing out the sea that flowed along the contours of her body.
The woman turned and regarded him momentarily before heading up the beach and into the palm groves. Gavin did not follow, could not follow, as if the trees were forbidden and rejected his presence. He felt himself pulled forward along the shore as he trudged through the sand.
Gavin walked for what felt like all night, watching the lights shimmer in the water, waiting for someone else to emerge from the sea, but no one came. He watched the sun rise, but still there seemed no end to this beach. Just ocean to his right, and sand and palms to his left. He walked until he found a man with a Styrofoam box standing in the middle of the sand, the word “balut” written on the box in black sharpie.
Gavin did not know what “balut” meant and asked the man, who said it was “egg duck.” Gavin asked to see one and the man said they were 15 pesos each. Gavin reached into his pocket and pulled out the remainder of his cash. The man handed him the egg and asked if he wanted any sunglasses. It was then that Gavin noticed the man was wearing a vest that was covered in sunglasses.
“For the sunrise,” the man said.
“But the sun’s already risen,” said Gavin.
“There’s always next time,” said the man.
“I’m out of money,” said Gavin.
“You can have this pair, on the house,” said the man.
“Thanks,” said Gavin, as he took the egg and sunglasses and kept walking.
The egg smelled good, like stew inside a shell. Gavin bit into it and immediately spat out a soft bony mass that had crunched between his teeth. He kept spitting into the sand and looked down at what resembled parts of a chewed fetus. He felt something tickle the roof of his mouth and pulled out a small black feather. He looked at the egg briefly before hurling it into the ocean.
The sun was rising higher now. It must have been noon hours ago, Gavin thought, and as he looked up, he stopped in awe as he watched the sun continue to ascend. He put on the sunglasses the man gave him as he saw the sun slowly getting smaller and smaller, until it disappeared from sight all together. Gavin stood there dumbfounded, wondering if the sun would come back down, but it was gone. It was still light out, but dimmer now, as if the light of the world was old—not extinguished, but simply stale.
Gavin kept walking in the twilight until he saw Wang standing on the beach.
“Where the hell did you go?” yelled Gavin as he ran towards Wang.
“How about that sunrise?” said Wang.
“Where are we?” asked Gavin.
“Ah, you haven’t finished your journey yet. Here, this should help,” said Wang as he took the bag of horn shavings from his pocket.
“Do it just like this,” said Wang as he tapped some powder on the edge of his fist and snorted. To Gavin, it looked like Wang was sucked into his fist, whirling inwards like a vacuum, swirling into himself and vanishing.
Gavin hesitated before picking up the bag from the sand and tapped out the remainder onto the edge of his hand, where his index finger met his knuckle.
Gavin snorted the horn shavings, felt them congeal into a bitter muck at the back of his throat, dripping down from the dark, wet spaces behind his eyes. He began to bleed out of his nose. He stumbled backwards, falling onto the ground. The sky became a vast plain stretching out into infinity. He heard the sound of an electric guitar, a single ominous distorted note growing louder. Across the plain galloped a horned beast with seven heads. Flesh coated in scale-flecked hide, hooves concealing hidden claws, its tail seven spears forged from every metal of the earth. Gavin did not feel that he was really here, on this deafening plain with the beast, until it drew closer and saw that its fourth head, the one in the center, was missing its horn. Blood oozed from the crater in the castrated skull, dripping down across its wide-eyed face and into its stained maw, panting hot, acrid breath as it surged towards him.
As the guitar note crescendoed, so did the beast, and soon it was upon him, seven heads encircling him, ecstatic for the kill. But before he felt himself come apart, before he was torn and scattered across the plain, rendered into his most basic parts, he saw within the jaws of the hornless head a sleeping child, alive and unharmed but splattered with blood from the beast’s wound, cradled within the slobber of its fleshy tongue. There was hardly time for terror, as if time meant anything in this place, and what brief fear Gavin felt was consumed by bliss when he saw the child, a bliss he now remembered as the bliss of being born, then the quietude he felt before he entered the world, a feeling that subsided into forgetfulness, becoming indistinct from the feeling of nothing at all.
Gavin woke up on the sand. He was laying on his back, not too far from where he had eaten the fish with Wang, who was now sitting at the table. Angeles sat on a stool next to the hut, which was shuttered for the day. It was early morning.
“How was your journey?” asked Wang.
“That was fucked, you could have warned me,” said Gavin.
“Did you have the one where you go to heaven or go to hell?” asked Wang.
“I’m not sure,” said Gavin. “I think I started off in heaven but ended up in hell.”
“Ah,” said Wang. “Those are the worst ones.”
“What was the point of all that?” asked Gavin.
“There is no point, really,” said Wang.
“Why do you do this? What’s the grail even for?” asked Gavin.
“I’m just trying to delay the end as long as possible,” said Wang.
“Why did you have me come here if you don’t have the horn to sell me?” asked Gavin.
“To see if you were worth selling to,” said Wang. “Most don’t make it through. Isn’t that right, Angeles?”
Gavin looked over at the hut, where Angeles sat on his stool. He was holding a shovel that dangled between his short legs. Angeles smiled and waved.
“So, you want me to help you recover the grail?” asked Gavin.
“Right,” said Wang. “My ships are bound to dredge it up sooner or later. And if I don’t have enough of the horn shavings to keep me going, you can take over,” he said.
“Look, I’m willing to sell snakes and birds banned in over 180 countries, but I’m not about to run a human trafficking sea slavery operation,” said Gavin.
“You can devise your own means. I am sure you have the money. Your soul isn’t as dirty as mine either, relatively speaking. Maybe you’ll even find a way to save yourself in the process,” said Wang. “What do you say, do you accept?” said Wang as he walked over to Gavin lying in the sand.
Gavin thought as he looked at the beach around him. His feet ached and his palms were swollen and bruised. What was the use, wasn’t he already doomed? Had he failed, or was this just the filthy reality of success? He still had a hell of a hangover.
Taking Wang’s hand, Gavin pulled himself up from the sand and stood.
— Ronald Plumber is a writer from the US based in China. He can be found on Substack @ronaldplumber