Lady of Way

by Rosemarie McCants

  "Urm… what if I wanted the contacts to one of them only…"

  "Yeah?" She raised her eyebrows at him.

  "Lisa Fellows?"

  "You'll still have to provide your name…"

  "Mark Thinn." He blurted out. The girl looked at him long and hard, then pulled a drawer open. She took out a slip of paper, "She said to give this to a Mark Thinn…" she handed him the folded note, "…if he asked for her. Didn't know it was you."

  *****

  He was sure he was going to fall from giddy joy if he did not leave the reception immediately. Or perhaps, too overcome with gratitude, hug and kiss the receptionist who was still regarding him with a wondering look… or is it envy, he wondered- and had the sudden thought that perhaps she had read the contents of the note.

  Once outside after having pocketed the paper, he considered going back to his room to read whatever 'my beautiful Lisa has written me' but thought better of it. He would read it while in the bush. Doing so would give the contents of the message that adventurous feel and he would look up into the heavens with tears of joy flowing down his cheeks, while all around him, every bird, animal, and insect would remain respectfully quiet, wondering with awe at this human being sitting under a tree, who had found love… and the wind would, with its characteristic sighs, carry away his love sobs to his lovely Lisa wherever she was, and she would, in turn, stop whatever she was doing, listen to his wind sobs, and unable to control herself would bawl in turn as she recited her heart out, professing her undying love…

  It was with such thoughts that Mark walked or floated rather, to the parking lot where the jeep he had hired for the day was waiting for him. Having been handed the keys in the morning after paying, he fished for them in his bag and moved to unlock the door- and paused. In the morning, he had been shown a jungle green jeep. The one in front of him was a deep maroon red. Confused and wondering whether he had approached the wrong vehicle, Mark looked around him. No other car was around. He turned to head back but paused and without knowing why he thought of it, tried the door. It unlocked with a click. Still confused, Mark flung his backpack into the back seat, carefully set the camera bag in one of the front seats, then slid in. He instinctively stretched out one of his hands to hold the wheel and the other to insert the key in the ignition and paused. More than confused, his heart was beginning to hammer in his chest. There was no steering wheel and no ignition lock. He slid out and as he did he happened to glance at the seat next to his. And there in front of the seat was the steering wheel and, well, the whole driver's place. It was a right hand car. Walking around it, Mark slid in once again, feeling like a passenger, and after a moment of orienting his mind that he was indeed about to drive but from the right-hand side, he inserted the key and turned it. Perhaps he had expected it to do something else other than start for he jumped when the crank turned once, and the engine picked up with a roar. Still wondering whether he was angry, confused, or disappointed, he placed his hand- now the left, not the right as he was accustomed to, on the shifter and engaged it. He pressed on the gas pedal. To roar it did, but the vehicle did not move, not even lurch. Thinking he had engaged it wrong, he glanced at the shifter and cursed loudly, "Who in Holy Hell left me a manual transmission car?"

  *****

  Bless Paul for bullying me into learning how to drive these things. He thought as he eased the vehicle out of the parking lot. It still proved to be a task though, and as he drove out of the camp driveway and into the road leading to the vast bushland, he feared that it would stall. It did not.

  Mark took the same road Sherry had used two days prior, that night when she had come for Mark and Lisa. Back then it had seemed quite a distance, but he was quite surprised to see the spot where he had parked his ford mustang that day, under the shaded canopy of several tall trees. On impulse, he steered the jeep toward the spot and stopped. He had intended to go further south where more pangolins, and mostly females with young ones, were bound to be found. But as he switched off the vehicle and got out, the temptation to retrace his and Lisa's footsteps from that night was strong. He took out his Leica out of its bag, mulled a bit, returned it to the bag, and shouldered it. He patted the pocket where Lisa's note was, and recalling his conversation with her that night, pocketed his phone which had been on the dashboard. He started to lock the car, stopped, reached into the back seat, and out of his backpack took out a power bank, three snack bars, and a bottle of water, which he stuffed into his trouser pockets. He didn't intend on staying long at the spot he intended to return to, but miracles do happen, and one did, and he got another chance with a pangolin, he wasn't going to let it pass by. Locking the jeep, he set off. He looked up and around him with grateful eyes as the clouds, seemingly understanding the importance of his mission, made sure that the hot sun remained hidden most of the time. The sun did try to chase them away from time to time, its light casting such beautiful shadows through the foliage, but Mark did not pause to immortalize the beauty with his Leica. In his mind, one even more beautiful waited, and what better way to immortalize their budding love than by retracing his steps to where it had all began? And so, realizing that its efforts were not being noticed, the sun did not show itself again, and the clouds ruled.

  *****

  The spot. The spot where Mark had first laid eyes on Lisa. On impulse, he removed his camera from its bag and setting its strap around his neck, took a few shots of the particular area… he seemed to remember something and walked over. He looked around where she had stood, even kneeling to feel the spot her feet had stepped on with his hand, as if expecting it to be warm, or whatever he imagined it would be. Looking around him, he spotted what he had been looking for. The stick she had waved at him. He picked it up. He tried to convince himself that he was not doing it as reverently as he seemed to; holding it with both hands and holding it high above his head. He wondered if anyone secretly observing him would have thought him a lunatic and the thought took his mind back the previous day at the coffee shop and Lisa's declaration that she was a lunatic when it came to nature. Wondering if he indeed was, he returned to the spot where he had crawled on that day. To his left was a tall tree whose name he had known before but had now forgotten. It had tiny, serrated leaves and small, round green berries which when ripe turned a dirty brown and dropped to the ground below. It was under this tree that Mark sat, reverently set the stick in front of him and just as reverently took out Lisa's note. More reverently he unfolded it, and read;

  Mark,

  Thank you for a great day yesterday. I enjoyed myself more than I had in a long time. Thank you once again,

  Lisa Fellows.

  Mark remained as he was, but nothing was reverent anymore. Did she write just to say thank you? He wondered as he stuffed the piece of paper back into his pocket, not even her phone number, or something sweet. He scrambled up, kicking the stick in the process… she doesn't care. He thought as he picked up the stick savagely, and flung it away from him as far as he could. It sailed through the air and landed beyond a small bush. I should be concentrating on what brought me here, he fumed, not what didn't. Feeling less reverent, looked around him and wondered how long it would take for a pangolin to show up. He would photograph it, go back to camp, pack, and very early the following morning, leave. No longer would he waste his time thinking of some woman who had wasted his time.

  He looked up at the high canopy and through the foliage caught a glimpse of his well-concealed time lapse camera. He checked for the other one and for a moment felt panic set in when he failed to locate it, but then did- it was still where he had set it, well-concealed also- but something seemed off. He checked again- high above, the glint was there; though he chided himself for leaving his binoculars in his backpack, and on the ground was the other, still well-concealed. He looked around at the spot carefully, taking note of the mound the pangolin had demolished to reach the termites, then the burrow further ahead where it had disappeared to when he had been ambushed. He looked at it carefully a
nd realized- it had been demolished, the previously well-formed entrance now a gaping hole, soil strewn and thrown carelessly around and about it. Mark approached the hole and examined it carefully. Many thoughts went through his mind, the dominant one being what had happened, and where was the pangolin that had been living there? Though attempts had been made to balance the animal life at Sinai Walk Camp by introducing a few predators to keep the others in check, the pangolin, owing to its endangered status had not had any natural enemies in the place. Unless, Mark thought as he bent to pick something up, its humans. It was a chewing gum wrapper. Could have been blown here by the wind, he thought, and I didn't notice Lisa chewing. Why would I think of her, he wondered as he put the wrapper in his pocket.

  Intrigued and slightly upset at not knowing whether the resident pangolin was safe, Mark looked around and noticed a track up ahead, not the one he had used to get to the place and not where Lisa had stood as she had harassed him. Searching about him, he located the stick he had so angrily flung away and grabbing it up, started following the track. He paused, retraced his few steps and aiming his Leica which had been hanging around his neck at the path, snapped a photo. He also snapped a few of the ruined burrow before walking off. A few feet's progress and he stopped, set the stick and the chewing gum wrapper on the ground, and photographed them. He seemed to consider them for a moment as they lay on the ground- and taking out his phone, he put in on camera mode and clicked a few shots. He observed the colored photos for a moment and smirked. Picking up the stick, he knelt and set against his shoulder. Tapping at the phone to set it to selfie mode, he took a few photos and pocketed his phone without looking at them. He returned the wrapper into his pocket and resumed his trek, stick in hand.

  His grumbling stomach reminded him that lunchtime was near though it was only eleven in the morning. I wonder what Lisa is doing right now. He thought then suddenly rebuked himself. Recalling the contents of her note to him, he fished it out of his pocket and read it as he walked. 'I enjoyed myself more than I had in a long time'. What did she mean? He wondered. Perhaps she would like to do it more often, he thought with a glimmer of hope, perhaps I was too rash to judge her words. He had stopped and was standing in another clearing, larger than the one he had left behind, and less dense. Still holding the note, he surveyed the place. The sun's rays were more successful in penetrating this place, and the foliage luxuriated in a richer green coloring, and a few of the plants had sprouted flowers. Numerous bees and a few hummingbirds darted in and out if the colorful petals. Just ahead and to the left was a small brook or spring- Mark couldn't tell the difference, all he knew was that it was too narrow and too shallow to be a full-fledged river. He approached it and peered into the water- nothing swam in there. It was a small paradise. Lisa would love to spend some time in such a spot. He thought as he glanced at her note and reading it all over again. He loved how her handwriting had brought out his name, and especially the 'k', like a walking stick accompanied by a tiny '3' he thought. His stomach grumbled again, reminding him that there were other things to think about besides Lisa. Taking out a snack bar, he searched for a shaded spot and sat. I'll bring her here, he decided as he chewed slowly, and we'll pour our hearts and our souls out to each other, through words and actions. The thought caused a sudden throb, and he shifted to ease the tightness in his pants. Stomach stilled even if for a short while, Mark stood up and resumed walking. Leaving behind the beautiful mini paradise, he turned right a few meters ahead, where the plants were not as luxurious looking as those he had left behind. He was pleasantly surprised to see a yesterday today and tomorrow plant amongst the nutrient-deprived plants. Its sweet fragrance filled the air, and he stopped to take it in. In his mind he and Lisa were in a bathtub with such fragrance surrounding them. Feeling overpowered by the fantasy, he closed his eyes to better give it substance and there was Lisa, covered with nothing but a smile as she walked towards him where he waited for her in the tub, throbbingly ready… still smiling, she held out her hand, and he took it, gently guiding her into the tub, where she gently guided herself to… Drawing in a lusty breath, he opened his eyes and waited for the effects of his fantasy to wear off. He must have been so engrossed in it not to notice several demolished burrows all around him, but now he did, approaching one and observing it carefully. He knew he was unlikely to spot a pangolin at that time of day; not all were nocturnal at Sinai Walk Camp. Some did indeed venture out in the evening hours when insects tended to be most active. But as he observed the ruined burrow he couldn't help searching around and about him, half expecting to catch a glimpse of the scaly creature. Could it be poachers? He wondered. He was yet to come across a trap, and even Lisa's group- he couldn't still recall the name- were yet to provide definitive proof that there were indeed poachers in Sinai Walk Camp. So, what is demolishing these burrows? He was suddenly aware of a presence behind him and whirled around. There was a man looking at him very thoughtfully.

  Chapter 4

  Recognition cleared Mark’s face, "Jake," he approached the other man, hand outstretched.

  "You're the photographer, right? Never got your name," Jake Redi took the offered hand in a firm grip, "Thought you got what you were looking for."

  "Not yet," Mark, one hand in his hip looked about him, "Still searching. Name is Mark Thinn."

  "That a gun in your pocket?" Jake pointed at Mark's bulging pants pocket.

  "Oh, no, no… just a bottle of water and a few snack bars."

  "Ah, right. Law against guns in the bush…" Jake smiled as he patted his own pockets to demonstrate, "Had to check…"

  "I understand," Mark hesitated for a moment, "Jake- do you think there may be poachers here?"

  "What- why would you ask?"

  "Several of the pangolin burrows have been demolished, including the one I had been staking the night you and Sherry drove here…"

  "The pangolins are moving away." Jake interrupted him, "Leaving no evidence behind."

  "Really? But that's not pangolin behavior…"

  "Mark," the other man drew in a deep breathe then let it out slowly, his face taking on a look that said he was preparing to educate an ignorant on something well known, "It's evolution. The animals have been hunted for so long; it is only logical that they'll evolve a few ways of trying to ward off predators."

  "The pangolin's worst predator is man…" Mark stated, and Jake stepped closer, one eye squinted,

  "That's why we're here," he indicated by waving his hand around, "To make sure 'man' doesn't get them. So," he tapped Mark on the shoulder, "Relax and take your pictures. We will make sure they're there for you to."

  "Have you seen the destroyed burrows?" Mark asked him, "Seemed like human activity to me…"

  "No, haven't come across them yet. How many have you seen?"

  "More than five," Mark pointed the way he had come, "Way back."

  "Took pictures?"

  "Just a few. All black and white."

  "Hmm…" Jake frowned thoughtfully, "Don't know if they're any good colorless but… show them to Sherry once back at camp. She'll be able to tell."

  "Sure, intended to. A sudden thought hit him, and he opened his mouth to voice it, thought better of it and remained quiet. They must have recorded something, he thought of the other two time-lapse cameras back there. He would not talk about them though until he was more sure of what was going on. Jake may have theorized the evolution thing, but Mark remained unconvinced. Gut instinct, which he had learned to obey. Jake walked towards a berry bush a few feet away and started plucking.

  "Wanna wash those?" Mark asked when the other man popped a handful into his mouth and chewed. He smiled, showing crimson teeth, "Germs already got comfortable," he tapped his stomach, "Too late to start the hygiene thing." He plucked a few more and pocketed some.

  "Where were you headed?" Jake asked as he wiped his mouth with a handkerchief.

  "I was looking for an undamaged burrow," he lifted the Leica, "Yet to take that photo."

&nbs
p; "Mind some company? I'll be quiet…" he smiled comically, the effect amplified by his berry-stained teeth.

  "Well… sure…" Mark acquiesced hesitantly, then added with a smile, "You can be my lookout for interruptions."

  "About that…" Jake frowned thoughtfully as they started walking, "Care to tell me what happened that night?" Mark considered it for a moment. The basics wouldn't hurt, he decided, "Lisa mistook me for a poacher," It felt mildly strange, mentioning her name to another man, "And the pangolin got away."

  "Oh. Thought it was something else. Sherry tell you they deflated visitors' cars?"

  "She did. But once they realized what they had done…"

  "Yeah, yeah, they apologized," Jake wagged his head, "And set everything right. They're meddlers if you ask me, sticking their 'it's my duty' thing where it does not belong."

  "They're doing what they believe in," Mark said defensively, "I wouldn't be too harsh to judge."

  "She must have done you a good one…" Mark turned to the other man sharply. Jake raised both hands, "I'm talking about her convincing you so fast..!" He defended himself.

  "Let's search for the burrows." Mark quickened his pace a bit, "Before the sun sets."

  "It might rain." Jake looked up, "It's very humid." Mark remained quiet. Jake seemed oblivious of his trek companion's disinclination to talk as he continued gazing up at the heavens. He reached into his pocket and took out a few berries. Popping several into his mouth, he held out his hand to Mark. Mark shook his head as he looked at the berries, now bruised from their contact with Jake's pocket.

  "Fine, starve," the other man tilted his head and dropped them all into his open mouth. Mark took out his bottle of water and offered it, but Jake, in turn, shook his head,

  "My offer was meant as a reconciliatory token," he burped, "Your refusal offended me."

  "Seriously?" Mark opened the bottle, "I thought I was being generous… but… to your customs…" he held up the water bottle then drank. None of them seemed to notice the conspiracy going on in the heavens, not even when the sun disappeared and the gathering clouds took on a darker look. It was the first few drops that had Mark unslinging his camera and stuffing it into its bag which had been around his shoulder. Picking up the pace, he turned, "Any idea of a place we can shelter around… Jake- why are you slowing down?" Indeed the other man seemed impervious to the rapidly increasing downpour, and to Mark's sinking horror, was clutching his stomach, an agonized look on his face. Mark hurried back as Jake sunk to his knees, groaning with pain.