Caine drove the stick down into the dark water, pushing the raft along. “I’ve tried. Tried to forget the past, move on. But somehow the past keeps finding ways to remind me.”
Nena lay down on the raft and looked up at him. “Give me a rag to wipe away the past, a rose to sweeten the present, a kiss to greet the future.”
Caine smiled but he kept his eyes on the river. “I’ve never heard that.”
“It is an old Arab proverb,” Nena said. Her voice was heavy with exhaustion. Her eyes closed.
“Get some rest,” Caine said quietly. “It’s been a long night.”
Her breathing became a soft sigh. As she slept, Caine continued driving the pole into the water.
They floated along, slowly drifting forward into the darkness.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Caine felt the tingle of danger before he saw the dark object in the water. The sensation crawled up his spine, lingering on the hairs behind his neck. They were being watched. He was sure of it.
He glanced left and right but saw nothing along the banks of the river. There were still a few minutes of darkness left before the sun pierced the night sky. The rising orange glow was just enough light to see by. The surface of the water was smooth and flat. The dim horizon cast shadows of reeds and trees across the river's glassy surface. All was quiet and still.
Suddenly, a loud thud sounded from under the raft. The wood platform bobbed up in the water, then settled back down. Caine heard a splash a few yards away.
Something had struck the bottom of the tiny craft.
The sudden motion stirred Nena. She moaned as she rolled towards him and lifted her head. Her hair draped over half her face, revealing a single, sleepy eye.
“How long was I asleep?” she breathed.
“There’s something in the water,” Caine hissed. “Something hit the raft.”
Nena scrambled to her feet. The raft dipped up and down as her weight shifted.
“Where is it?” she whispered.
Caine was silent as he scanned the dark, calm water. He spotted a ripple to their right side. A dark shape was floating in the water, moving alongside them.
He pointed with the stick. “There.”
Nena peered into the darkness. “I don’t see …”
The shape bobbed in the water. In the dim glow of dawn, Caine could see a pair of massive eyelids peel up, revealing two dark orbs. The eyes were the size of a man's fist, peering up at them from the water line. The creature’s head was submerged, but Caine caught a glimpse of smooth gray skin, mottled with patches of pink.
Nena brushed her hair from her face and looked closer. Her eyes grew wide and she gasped. She grabbed the pole and pushed it down into the water. “We have to get to shore! Now!”
“What the hell is it?” Caine asked as the two of them guided the raft towards the south bank of the river.
Before she could answer, a louder splash sounded in the water, only a few feet away. Caine spun around and saw a massive dark shape launching towards them. He pulled Nena away from the edge of the raft as the tiny craft listed in the churning water.
The massive, bulbous creature surfaced, lifting the raft up into the air. Nena screamed as the two of them tumbled into the water with a splash.
Nena surfaced and spit a stream of water from her mouth. Caine gripped her hand and began kicking towards the shore. “Can you swim?” he shouted.
She yanked her hand away and ignored the question. Caine could see she was moving at a swift pace towards the shore, using a powerful breast stroke.
He heard the crack of splintering wood behind him. He turned and saw a massive hippopotamus slam its girth down onto the raft. Its cavernous mouth yawned open and released a bellowing roar. Caine felt his innards shake as the powerful noise vibrated through his body. The beast’s gaping maw sported a series of thick, bony tusks. It plunged them into the tiny raft, piercing the wood beams and rubber tires as if they were mere twigs. The creature shook its head and the raft flew apart, scattering debris across the water.
The hippo snorted angrily and lurched through the water towards them. Caine swam between the behemoth and Nena. As she crawled up onto the shore, the creature rose up in front of Caine. Three tons of blubber and sinew loomed before him in the dark water. He felt a blast of stagnant air as the animal once again gaped its massive jaws. Even in the dim light, he could see the row of curved tusks surrounding its lower jaw.
Up close, the hippo’s wet bellow was deafening. The pink flesh and white teeth filled Caine’s vision, blocking out the dark river and the orange sky.
Caine thrust forward with the long stick, jabbing it into the creature's mouth. The animal bit down, snapping the rod in two. Its head lurched sideways, sending a wave of water cascading over Caine.
He spun around and paddled towards the southern bank of the river as fast as he could. Behind him, he heard the animal splash and roar. It turned its attention to the floating debris surrounding it in the river. The massive jaws clamped onto one of the raft’s rubber tires. Long, curved tusks pierced the thick rubber with ease. The hippo shook its inanimate prey back and forth, sending a cascade of water through the air.
Then, with a final, triumphant snort, the animal sank back under the water.
Caine crawled out of the river and scrambled to the shore. He collapsed on the ground next to Nena, panting for breath. He turned and saw the bulbous head of the hippo floating next to a smaller, identical shape. The pair of animals touched snouts, then floated away into the distance.
“Hippopotamus,” Caine said between lungfuls of air. “Didn’t expect that.”
“They are very dangerous,” Nena gasped. “They kill more people in Africa than any other large animal.” She panted for breath. “They are especially aggressive around their young. We are lucky she didn’t come on land …”
They lay silent, letting the wave of adrenaline wash over them. Caine turned towards her. Her long, wet hair trailed behind her like a shadow, and her translucent clothes clung against her dark skin.
Without thinking, Caine reached out and touched her face. “Are you alright?” he asked in a soft voice.
She stared at him. Her wide, cat-like eyes glinted in the dim early light. She said nothing. Her breathing slowed to a low, heavy pant.
Caine pulled his hand away and looked down. “I … sorry, I just—”
She grabbed his hand and pulled it back to her. She closed her eyes as she pressed the rough skin of his palm against her soft cheek.
Caine was silent. She opened her eyes. “Why do you not kiss me?”
Caine looked up at her and gently removed his hand. “It’s not that simple, Nena.”
She tilted her head. “Is there another woman that you love?”
Caine looked away. “Like I said. It’s not that simple.”
She stared at him, then sighed. “It never is.” She stood up and tied her wet hair into a dripping ponytail.
“Perhaps it is just as well,” she muttered as Caine stood up next to her. “Hippos defecate in the water to mark their territory.”
“Great,” Caine said, sniffing his soaked clothes.
Nena scrunched her nose and pursed her lips. “Now we both need a shower. We should keep moving. Kanfar is close, but the terrain is difficult. We’ll be lucky if we can make it by morning.”
Caine followed her along the river bank as the rippling orange sun began its slow ascent.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Caine forced himself to take another step forward. His foot splashed down into the soft grass and sank into the marsh below. His tan skin flared with sunburn and beads of sweat rolled down his cheeks. His short hair was plastered to his scalp.
Nena panted for breath and splashed after him. They were traversing the northern edge of the Sudd, a vast swampland that stretched for miles to the south. The terrain was brutal, and their travel was slow going. Every step through the muck and mire of the soft earth was like staggering through quicksand.
&nb
sp; The blazing sun rose higher above them. Caine lost track of the hours. He could not remember the last time either he or Nena had spoken. The deeper they penetrated into the thick marsh, the quieter they each became. Every yard gained was a battle, every mile a war. They were struggling, fighting their way forward through the thick mud and tangled vegetation. They had no more energy left to speak.
Flies and water bugs buzzed around his face. There were so many creatures flying through the air, it seemed like a dense black cloud hovered in front of him. He was too tired to swat them away. He watched Nena from the corner of his eye. She swung her arm in a listless arc. The insects parted and buzzed away, but they returned in seconds.
The knife wound in Caine’s side throbbed with a dull ache.
Should have listened to the doctor, he thought. You need stitches.
A loud hiss sounded from the river’s edge. Caine kicked at the weeds and whistled. He knew their best bet was to try to frighten hostile animals away by making as much noise as possible. To appear weak and tired was to accept a death sentence … to mark themselves as prey.
A long, lean crocodile slithered from the brush and slid into the water. Sunlight gleamed off its thick, armored scales. The huge reptile cruised away from them and disappeared into the water.
Nena paused and watched it swim, then glanced over at Caine. Her eyes had glazed over. To Caine, it seemed like she was looking right through him.
“Here, take my hand.” Caine spat the words out, his voice thick and dry.
The doctor grabbed his arm and leaned against him. Caine’s muscles ached in protest. He continued plodding forward, supporting her weight against his shoulder.
They moved in silence. The only sounds were their labored breathing and the occasional splash of wildlife near the water’s edge. At one point, Caine swore he saw tiny huts, brown domes of reeds and straw. The dwellings perched above floating islands of swamp grass far in the distance. He blinked, and his vision wavered … the brown dots vanished in a sea of rippling heat waves. He looked down at Nena. Her eyes fluttered but remained fixed ahead of them.
He took a deep breath and continued the march forward.
The sun reaches its zenith overhead. The terrain is dry now and more stable. The swamp-like marsh is replaced by long, waving brown grass and scrub.
Caine feels a surge of energy. He moves faster through the grass, lowering his hand to feel it graze the tips of his fingers. The reeds brush the dry, cracked skin of his palms.
He hears another growl in the grass up ahead … deep and guttural, it shakes his bones and sends a primal rush of adrenaline through his loins.
Predators ahead, he thinks.
The voice in his head, the one that knows deep down what he wants, what he truly is, whispers back a reply. You’re a predator as well …
He ducks low and stalks through the grass. The savannah parts, revealing an endless stretch of cracked, rocky desert. The hellish terrain stretches as far as the eye can see. It vanishes in a crimson haze at the foot of dark, distant mountains.
Caine stands alone in the barren, desolate expanse. He glances left and right … Nena is nowhere to be seen.
Something’s wrong, he thinks.
She was slowing you down, the voice answers back. You have work to do.
He sees more tiny brown dots in the distance … huts, sprouting from the arid landscape, like blisters on sun-scorched skin.
He walks towards them. As he moves closer to the structures, he notices a flickering glow rising from their thatched roofs.
The huts are burning.
Children run from the collapsing structures. Caine listens to their high-pitched cries of terror and pain. He is in the village now. They are all around him, darting past him, disappearing into the billowing clouds of smoke.
One boy stands in his path and raises a rifle. His feet are shoulder-width apart on the cracked, parched earth. His legs tremble in fear. Caine stares down the long, black barrel of the gun.
“It’s okay,” he whispers. He holds out his hand. “It’s not your fault.”
No, the voice in his head hisses. It’s your fault. All of this is your fault.
Puff Adder …
The black circle of the rifle barrel splits open. A serpent’s eye stares back at him, looking down the barrel of the gun. He watches the eye blink. A clear membrane slides back and forth over the slit reptilian pupil.
He spins around, peering through the smoke and flames of the devastated village.
“Takuba!” he shouts.
The boy drops the rifle and scampers off. Caine picks up the gun. He thumbs the release lever in front of the trigger and removes the curved magazine. He glances down, confirming he has a full load, then slaps the mag back into the gun. The bolt action clicks with comforting precision as he yanks back the lever and chambers a round.
“Mr. Caine … Tom. Nice of you to come, good sir.”
Caine whirls around and raises the rifle to his shoulder. He peers above the notched sights. A dark figure emerges from the swirling clouds of smoke.
It is him … Simon Takuba.
He looks older now. His hair and stubble are flecked with gray. Long, deep lines cut into his gaunt face near the edges of his mouth. But when he smiles, there is no doubt. The blood-red diamond tooth reflects the hellish glow of the inferno around them.
He hunches over and drags something across the dusty rocks. It is the girl … His long, bony fingers clutch at a tangled mass of her hair. He pulls her struggling body behind him.
“Why are you here, Tom? This place … you don’t belong here anymore.” His voice is high-pitched … almost a giggling laugh.
“I came here to kill you,” Caine shouts. “Like I should have done before.”
He pulls the trigger of the rifle. Nothing happens. His trigger finger is frozen, unmoving. It hangs a fraction of an inch above the curved sliver of metal.
“Tom …” It was the girl. She looks up at him, and he remembers the fear, the pleading … God, her eyes. How can he ever forget those eyes?
But this time it is not her. It is Nena. Takuba’s fingers grow through her hair, like the roots of a malignant tree.
“Don’t leave me,” she gasps. “Please, you can’t leave me.”
The gun shakes in his hands. He roars in frustration. No matter how hard he tries, the trigger is frozen. He cannot fire. He hears the kiss of metal sliding against leather.
Takuba draws his machete. He holds it above Nena’s head.
“You cannot kill me, Tom. I told you before. My spirits protect me.”
And they curse you …
The smoke thickens around him. Caine pushes forward, gasping for breath.
“Nena? Are you there?”
He hears the hiss of the blade slicing through the air. The sound is so intimate, familiar …
His coughing grows more intense. He is staggering, falling. He can’t breathe. The red haze surrounding him blots out the light, and mutes her cries to a strangled sob.
He feels hands lifting him up, pulling him away. He reaches out into the blood-red smoke, but his fingers touch nothing. Everything fades to black. He hears a voice calling to him. It is an echo, far away and yet whispering in his ear.
We’re weapons, Tom.
You have to fire and forget …
Fire and forget …
Chapter Thirty
Caine gasped and sat up. Something cold and wet slid off his face. He grabbed it in his hands and held it up. It was a rag, soaked in water. His eyes darted around the tiny dark room. The surroundings were new and unfamiliar.
He was lying on the dirt floor of a tiny shack. It was a patchwork dwelling of plastic sheets, scavenged timbers, and other random materials. A narrow beam of sunlight pierced between two tattered curtains that hung over the entrance to the room. He smelled smoke and heard low voices drifting in from outside.
The burning pain in his side had dwindled to a dull throb. He reached down and felt fresh sti
tches lacing across the closed wound. His shirt had been washed and was folded on the ground next to him.
He stood up, dressed, and paused for a moment, listening to the people beyond the curtains. He recognized Nena’s voice speaking an African dialect of some kind. He parted the curtains and stepped outside.
Nena was sitting on a small bench next to a cooking fire. She held a chipped plate in her hands and was dipping her fingers into a thick, white ball of paste. She swished the paste through a ring of watery tomato sauce on the edge of the dish and licked it off her fingers.
She looked up. Her eyes widened with surprise as she saw Caine standing there.
“Tom! You’re awake … you slept the entire day. You must have been exhausted!”
She gave him a sheepish grin and wiped her fingers on her jeans.
A withered local woman sat next to a clay pot suspended above a small fire. She smiled at Caine and ladled another mass of the white porridge onto a plate of sauce. She held it out to him.
Caine ignored her and took a few steps forward. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the harsh sunlight. Based on the high position of the sun, he knew it was late in the afternoon. He had a dim, feverish memory of the sun in the same position as they trudged through the Sudd swampland. Was what Nena said true? Had he slept an entire day? Takuba, the burning village … had it all been a feverish nightmare?
The shack sat on a flat, muddy plain. In the distance, he could see the tall grass, and beyond that, the wetlands they had crossed.
“Where are we?” he asked, his voice dry and raspy.
“Tom, sit down, rest. We made it.” Nena gently tugged at his arm. “This is Kanfar.”
Caine stared at the ruins surrounding them.
The shack he was standing in was one of the few buildings left intact. Everywhere he turned, he saw scattered timbers, piles of rubble, jagged pipes sticking up from the ground. Scraps of burned tents flapped in the breeze. Families huddled beneath them, desperate for whatever tiny patch of shade they could find. In the distance, he saw a stretch of barren land covered with rusted, empty bed frames. Their mattresses and bedding had been burned away, and they were now only useful for scrap metal.
Thomas Caine series Boxset Page 89