Conversation · Lilienne's Twin

The scruffy-haired little boy kicks a stone while the other watches him do it.

"Hey, where is your mom?"

The kids don't reply, absorbed in their little game.

"Kids, have you seen any bad people around?"

"What bad people?" One of the twins looks up, his mouth slightly open.

"I don't think questioning four-year-olds without their parents present is gonna crack the case," says the lieutenant.

Then we're definitely doing it.

"Bad people. Criminals. Dangerous women."

"No, we're not really supposed to talk to strangers, you know." The other twin shakes his head.

"Okay kids. You've been to that island, right?"

"On that island?" The one who's busy kicking his stone points to the bay.

"Yes, that one. I need to know what's there."

"That's... uhm... nothing?" The boy pauses to think with his finger in his mouth. "It's just a seafort and some plants. You can take a raft there. It's great."

"And! And!" the other one butts in. "We make a fire. We make a... we make a fire."

"Mhm," his brother nods. "Gather the sticks for the fire -- and bullets. Or not real bullets, empty bullets."

Bullet shells? There are a lot of them left over from the war -- but this could be important.

"Wait, you mean shells?"

"I don't know what those are..."

"Mhm." (Nod in agreement.)

"There are lights. The fire guy comes and asks us to put the fire out."

Your nerve endings sting from the mention of a guy.

They must mean a human being. On that island? But it's cut off...

"Why does he ask you to put the fire out?"

"Uhm... I don't know. He doesn't like it. He doesn't like people to be there. You shouldn't go."

"Yes," the other one adds laconically, standing with his hands glued to his sides like a little tin soldier.

Because he doesn't want to be found. Smoke traces...

A suspicious request. Made out of fear?

"Why is he the fire guy?"

"Because.... because..." The boy pauses to think.

"Because he asks to put the fire out!" the other explains.

"Is that all you know? Is there anything more you can tell me about the island?" (Conclude.)

"There's a..." the boy says, rubbing his eyes. It's clear that he has no intention of finishing the sentence.

"Lights? Fire guy?" The lieutenant looks at you. "We should check up on that island and you..."

He whispers: "You need to keep your dark humour in check in front of children, okay?"

I'm not telling you twice.

"Lights? Fire guy?" The lieutenant looks at you. "We should check up on that island."

"You mentioned something about lights?"

"I..." starts one of them -- it's hard to tell which one now. "I don't know."

"Did you mean there are electrical lights?" He points to the streetlight.

"Uhm... yes." The boy looks at his toes.

"Is there anything else you can tell me about this guy? Age? Does he live there?"

"No, he doesn't live there. I don't think."

"No, he lives there." The other nods. "He's been there twice, two times."

"Huh..." The first one pauses to think, then comes to some kind of conclusion. "He doesn't live there. He isn't there sometimes."

"Anything else? What does this guy look like?"

"I don't know," they say almost in unison.

"How come?"

"We... we ran. He just yelled we shouldn't be there."

"Anything else? What does this guy look like?"

"Your father used to go to that island too, didn't he?"

"Our father killed himself."

"Don't say that. He didn't." His brother punches him. The boy's eyes well up like he's about to start crying.

A dull pain flashes through your mind.

Say nothing.

"I'm sorry." The one says to the other, rubbing his brother's shoulder affectionately.

"He killed himself all right."

"Shut up." The lieutenant jabs you in the ribs with his elbow, then turns to the boy...

"Don't punch your brother.... please. Don't start crying. We still need to ask more questions."

"I'm not gonna start crying," the one who almost started crying snaps, regaining control of his quivering chin.

The other watches him, brows knitted. "It doesn't even have anything to do with this, you. Father isn't the fire guy."