Echoes In The Mist

by Rifi Strawn

  He smiled. “That’ll do more harm than good.”

  “Then I’m coming to work with you. You can’t drive with that foot.”

  He stopped and held her. “Honey. I need you to stay home and guard this place.” He hesitated. “I have important records from my years of research here. If the evidence of the declining elephant population is lost, killing them will be easier.”

  “I’m worried about someone attacking you tonight. It’s too soon for you to be out there all alone in the dark—especially with a hurt foot.”

  “I’m going to ride my bicycle,” he said. “They’ll be looking for me in the Rover.”

  She looked down at his foot. “Right. That’s a great idea. Come on! The lions and other animals will smell your blood. I don’t need to remind you that they can outrun you on a bicycle, and the peddling motion will attract them.”

  “They don’t want me. There’s plenty of food for them out there.”

  She insisted that he take his dart rifle and flashlight. “How will you deal with that horrible smell?”

  “I can’t handle it.” He stopped and hugged her. “You worry too much.”

  “I can’t help but worry.” She looked into his loving gaze. “I don’t have anyone else but you over here. When you’re hurt, I’m hurt. When you’re sad, I’m sad. When you’re restless, I can’t sleep.”

  “That’s why I’m taking extra precautions to protect us. I need you just as much as you need me.” He opened a locked drawer and showed her how to use the loaded hand gun. “Don’t hesitate to shoot at whoever breaks in here. If you don’t take care of them, they’ll use this gun to kidnap or kill you.”

  She gulped. “Even Lucky?”

  “Yes, even him,” he said sadly. “He has no business coming in here when I’m gone.” He held her face and looked her in the eye. “No one comes into this house in my absence. And you don’t go anywhere.”

  Her voice choked. “You’re scaring me.”

  “I’m just extra cautious. Other than you, I don’t trust anyone right now. I can only rely on you.”

  “Call me at the first hint of a threat, and I’ll come to pick you up in the Rover. Promise me?”

  He held her face in his hands and kissed her. “Yes. I promise.”

  After a long assuring kiss, he left her. Dart rifle in hand, Stanley watched Jeremy disappear out the back door into the darkness. She locked the doors, pulled the curtains over the windows, and turned off all the lights so no one could see into the house. Heart racing, she paced the bedroom floor and looked at the empty bed. There would be no sleeping tonight.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jeremy pedaled his bike down the dark, dirt road. Chest tightened and pulse racing, he peered at the shadows feeling vulnerable to an animal attack. Predators were active at night and attracted to the moving and running like the motion of a cyclist. If he used his flashlight to show the path ahead and chase the animals away, he could attract a human predator.

  This risky ride was worth the effort to protect Makeda, Luki, and the rest of the elephant herds. He stared at the dark shadows. Catching the poachers by surprise could get him killed. He patted his pocket for the walkie-talkie. At the hint of a threat, he’d call Stanley to contact the police.

  The bike rattled from the deep potholes in the road. The jarring caused throbbing pain to his injured toe. Pedaling through the mud was like riding up a steep mountain. It took all his strength and added pressure on his hurt foot. The Rover would’ve never made it on this narrow path.

  He stopped and swallowed more pills from the bottle in his pocket and adjusted the mask on his nose and mouth. The wind was blowing in his face and smelled of the decaying elephants.

  The dim light of the rehab center in the distance gave him hope. For now, Tutu was safe and guarded. Maybe he’ll go in and check on her, get some water and change out her dressing. Mud was splattering all over his bike and shoes.

  He looked down at his phone, wondering if he should warn the guards of his arrival on a bike so they wouldn’t shoot him by mistake. Headlights from behind were closing in. He kept pedaling without looking back. A sharp object stung the back of his left shoulder. Everything blurred.

  ~*~

  When Jeremy opened his eyes again, he squinted and tried to shield his face from the glaring overhead light, but his arms were strapped to the metal table he lay on. In a panic, he tried to get up. Damn. His legs were also bound. A dark shadow blocked the glaring light. Heart thumping, he looked up at a face in a green surgical mask.

  In a fog, Jeremy slurred, “Where am I?”

  The sadistic voice laughed. “I’m your worst nightmare.”

  Jeremy swallowed hard. “Am I in hell?”

  “You’re funny,” the voice said. “For you, this might be hell, but for me this is a piece of heaven.”

  Jeremy crinkled his nose. The smell of death had followed him, but this was different than the stench of the elephant carnage. Nervously, he looked around, hoping to get clues to his location. He looked at the popcorn plastered ceiling and the white walls. He could be anywhere. A dim light shown from a small opening with stairs. Was that the only way out of here? The room had no windows that he could see.

  His breath quickened. “What are you going to do with me?”

  The sadistic laughter grew louder. “You should ask what I’m not going to do with you.”

  “What are you, some kind of sick pervert or something?”

  “To some, I’m their savior.”

  The tall, imposing figure behind the mask, white lab coat, and green hat walked away from the table. Jeremy peered at his back as he worked on something on the counter. No one he knew had broad shoulders, a long torso, and stocky legs like his.

  He turned his head to the side. The bright light in his face blurred everything. His breath quickened from clanks of metal on metal. His worst nightmare was to be caught by a poacher. Some village elders had insisted it was a man, not lions taking their missing loved ones. Now Jeremy was starting to believe them. The plastic gloved hand turned his face side-to-side and then checked his pulse.

  “You’re quite calm under these circumstances. Although your pulse is a bit faster now,” the man said.

  “At least have the decency to tell me who you are?”

  “No. No. No. That would ruin this game.” The sadistic voice simmered with laughter. “As usual, you’re a hindrance in my cause to save my people. Every day your beloved elephants eat tons of crops and forested areas that provide us oxygen. This land doesn’t have enough resources to sustain huge, useless animals. Your elephants are a detriment to our survival.”

  Jeremy assessed his killer. “It seems you’ve been watching me for a long time.”

  “You’ve caused much needless suffering. It’s time I stopped you.” The angry voice grew louder. “I gave you plenty of chances to change your ways, but now I’ve run out of options.”

  The leather shackles rubbed Jeremy’s skin raw each time he attempted to free himself. “You son of a bitch, I’m going to kill you.”

  “You are ambitious. Always have been. How are you going to kill me with your legs and arms tied up?” The gloved hand dabbed alcohol on his raw wrists. “Easy there now. Your skin is more delicate than an elephant’s.

  Jeremy listened to the man humming as he continued rubbing something on his arms and legs. “You’re a sick bastard.”

  “I’m just cleaning you. Once I remove the skin, it takes a while to marinate human meat.”

  “Well, I’ll make sure mine tastes bitter with anger.”

  “Soon the elephants of the Zambezi will be removed from the face of this earth with you out of the way.”

  “Dream on, asshole. People are watching them around the clock.”

  “Most of them work for me. How do you think I get inside information?”

  Jeremy listened to his words carefully and tried to place him, but he’d disguised his voice. “Why don’t you talk to me face-to-face?”


  “That would ruin the fun.” He looked Jeremy in the eye through large goggles. “I must admit I’m a bit fond of Makeda and Luki. I like seeing them play in the river. I’ve kept them alive all this time for that reason.” He checked Jeremy’s pulse again. “Your pulse is rising. You have to calm down. The added adrenaline leaves a bad taste in the mouth even after the frying and baking.”

  “In that case, I’ll pike up all my hormone levels and ruin your meals.”

  The sicko’s voice boomed. “Your father was the same way. He left a bad taste in my mouth for days…Everyone thought the poachers got him, but he was here in this room for days…”

  Jeremy continued to block his panic with anger, but tears began welling in his eyes. “Do it already,” he yelled. “A predator knows to end it quickly.”

  “An African proverb says, ‘When a leopard wants to eat its own offspring, it accuses them of smelling like goats.” The sicko laughed. “But, you smell just like chicken to me.”

  “You’re a sick piece of shit.” Jeremy flinched from a cold sharp blade edge traveling down the length of his right arm, cutting his shirt sleeve.

  The man’s chanting in African grew louder as he ripped the last of Jeremy’s clothing off and tossed his underwear on the floor. The knife glistened in the man’s hand as he performed his ritual. Jeremy closed his eyes. This was his end. He’d feared someday of being killed and eaten by a lion or a leopard, but never a human.

  The chanting stopped. “No. No. No,” yelled the man.

  Metal clanged on the concrete floor. “You’re flawed. You’re flawed! How could you do this to me? When did you mangle that toe?” He hit Jeremy’s injured toe so hard that blood gushed from it. Mumbling in anger, the man tossed the table over. “The gods are against me.”

  Jeremy’s strapped in body slammed against the dirty floor. Flashes of light followed excruciating pain from a crushed nose. He lay helplessly bound to a table on top of him. As he gained his composure, footsteps pounded up the stairs. The butcher’s knife on the floor was a few feet from him. A glint of hope raced his pulse.

  He scooted on his belly toward the knife, carrying the heavy weight of the table on his back. Dishes broke, and pots and pans rattled above, concealing the sound of the end of the metal table scraping along the concrete.

  Gagging from the raunchy smell of decay, Jeremy scooted across the filthy floor with maggots wiggling close by. His bound hands fumbled for the knife. He turned himself and the table to the side. His right hand grabbed and positioned the knife so he could rub the leather strap on the blade. His first two attempts to free himself with the sharp edge only injured him more.

  He angled the knife again. Praying that he wasn’t slashing his wrist, he wedged the blade under the leather and moved his hand in slow, calculated movements. He sighed at the dark red blood from his nose spilling onto the filthy floor.

  He stopped to consider his options. He’d rather kill himself than die by a sick man’s hands. After a few more rubs against the knife’s sharp blade, the leather strap came loose. Quickly, he cut free his legs.

  Holding the table steady, Jeremy slid from under it and kept it from slamming on the ground. The noise above stopped. He gripped the knife. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he took quiet steps up the stairs and stopped at a turn, halfway up.

  The masked man stood at the top of the stairs, laughing. “I’m impressed by your ingenuity. I thought you’d stay down for a while. Your resilience is amazing, but you’re not getting out of here alive even though you’re not worthy of a perfect sacrifice.”

  Jeremy focused on the gun in the man’s hand. He ducked and dove back down the stairs. Bullets fired, and one nicked his ear as he moved to the side. Others ricocheted off the walls. He rose and ran into the room, picked up the table, and hurled it at the base of the stairs.

  The man laughed and dodged the table. His large body slipped on the pool of Jeremy’s blood.

  Jeremy rolled on top of the man and wrestled for the gun until it came loose. As the man reached to grab the weapon, Jeremy took the knife and dragged it across his throat. The gurgling scream faded, and the body went limp.

  Jeremy ran up the stairs. Perhaps others were participating in this cannibalistic ritual. The door from the basement opened into a pristine laundry room. The sweet smell of floral detergent was a welcome change from the stench below. He slipped into a woman’s bathrobe. The man had ripped his clothes apart. Nervously, he reached down to feel his penis. Thank God. Still there.

  Jeremy stepped over the shards of fine china and dented pots scattered on the kitchen floor. He heard a television on in the adjacent living room. He pushed open a door from the kitchen and ran out onto a concrete ramp heading upward.

  Looking over his shoulder, he kept running out of the underground concrete bunker. Rushing up the ramp toward the light, he paused at the top. Grass on the roof disguised the bunker to the naked eye.

  Breathing heavily, Jeremy hobbled on his bloody foot to a helicopter parked on a concrete pad. He opened the door to the state-of-the-art aircraft and climbed in. It was more sophisticated than the helicopters he’d flown. Quickly, he pressed the start button. The cannibal hadn’t counted on him leaving alive. A cloud of dust blew as he lifted off. Shots rang out from below.

  The radio blared, “Stop now.”

  Jeremy kept on flying without responding. He checked the navigation screen to see where he was. What the hell? The Kalahari Desert? If the date and time were correct, he’d been held captive for two days.

  Daybreak peaked over treetops and the rugged terrain during his two-hour flight toward the lodge. The threats kept coming over the radio. He checked the radar for other helicopters and then looked at the fuel gauge. The needle was near the red zone.

  The engine coughed and then steadied. Before the engine ran entirely out of fuel, he landed in an open grassy patch. He sat looking at the tall grass for lions and leopards. The smell of his blood would attract them.

  He opened the cockpit door and pushed his way through the grass until he came to a rocky path. If it weren’t for the chief injuring his foot, he wouldn’t be alive now. At first chance, he needed to thank him. His long-time friend had saved his life without knowing it.

  ~*~

  Exhausted, Stanley sat in tears at Jeremy’s house. She held on to the shirt he’d worn and took in his scent. Her clothes and hiking boots covered with mud from looking for him everywhere she could think of. She refused to give up hope even if it killed her. Without him, her world was dark and lonely. She couldn’t eat or sleep. At times, it was even difficult to breathe. He was her heart and soul.

  Tabo came to see her with a plate of food. Gently, she held Stanley’s arm. “My lady, you must stay strong to find Mr. Jeremy.”

  “I’ve looked for him in the bush and by the river. There’s no sign of his clothes or him anywhere…I don’t know if I’ll ever find him.” She broke out in tears. “I even begged Makeda to help me find him.” Was it my imagination or did that elephant nod its head?”

  “You will see him, my lady. You must have faith. Lucky and the chief are out looking for Mr. Jeremy right now. They are the greatest trackers.”

  Her eyes red and swollen from crying and lack of sleep, she held Tabo’s hand. “You go home and take care of your family.”

  “My lady, I don’t want to leave you.”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  After Tabo left, Stanley grabbed her dart rifle and phone, and walked outside to the Rover to go look for Jeremy again.

  ~*~

  After hours of walking, Jeremy’s mouth was as dry as cotton. He sat on a rock and caught his breath. Delirious from the beating sun and dehydration, he fought hard not to lie down and looked at the path ahead.

  Mud puddles along the way seemed like gushing streams to quench his thirst. He crawled to a puddle and drank to his heart’s content, and then took off his bloody robe and splashed water on his hot face and body. He imagined standing under pouri
ng cold streams. The dirt washed off his naked body and revealed his new wounds. Forever, these scars would be a reminder of his near-death escape.

  He put the robe back on to protect his skin from the sun. Dripping with water, he took small steps down the path and fell into another puddle. His stomach knotted and he started puking up muddy water. Stanley’s face flashed through his mind. She needed him more than ever now. He must go to her. What if she’d been kidnapped on the same night he’d been abducted?

  He woke and rose to his knees, then stood and hobbled one step at the time. He looked down at his injured foot. The sutures had come apart. Dirt was mixing with blood. Gently, he touched his nose in excruciating pain. It was broken for sure.

  His eyes grew weak as he shielded his face from the sun, and then tripped and fell on the ground again. He began to drift back into his delirious state when he felt a huge leathery arm wrap around his body like a snake. He held on as the sound of large feet pounded on the path beneath him. He closed his eyes and wondered if he was in God’s arms.

  His body stopped bouncing and gently hit the ground. Everything went dark. A gush of water drenched him. He looked up at the spray from the trunk of a huge elephant and wiped his face.

  “Makeda,” he muttered. “Thank God, it’s really you.”

  Loud panicked shrieks of an elephant sounded off in his ears. The distress call raced his pulse. He sat up from the sound of a purring engine coming toward him. “Run, Makeda. Run,” he yelled.

  He heard Stanley’s voice calling. He looked in that direction and saw her jumping out of the Rover with Lucky. “Stanley?” he murmured.

  “Oh, my God, it’s really you,” she cried as she kneeled next to him.

  “I’m alive. I’m alive,” Jeremy muttered, and hugged her.

  She handed him a canteen and he drank. As they helped him into the Rover, Jeremy stopped to look at the elephants in the river. Makeda swam with Luki. Did he imagine it all, or did the queen of the herd really help him? Maybe an elephant never forgets. Perhaps, Makenda knew he was the one who’d rescued her from snares and nursed her back to health when she nearly died after giving birth. Today, she’d paid her debt to him and saved his life when he’d given up all hope.