Thunderbolt

by Wilbur Smith

  Xander seemed to read my thoughts. ‘We’re not muggers,’ he said.

  ‘I know, not normally. But we’re desperate.’

  ‘If we’d stolen his phone, he’d have wanted revenge,’ Xander said. ‘He’d definitely have reported us then.’

  ‘Not if we’d tied him up.’

  ‘Making us worse than muggers,’ Mo said. ‘I spun him a story, told him we were out here on patrol.’

  ‘Think he believed you?’ asked Xander.

  Mo looked away.

  ‘Thought not,’ I said.

  Xander said, ‘He’s bound to tell someone he’s seen us.’

  ‘Making the only logical plan obvious,’ said Amelia with a sigh.

  I could see where she was going. ‘We can’t make him un-see us, but we can make where he saw us history.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mo. ‘We can’t stay here any longer.’

  Beside me, Xander’s shoulders sank. As brightly as I could I said, ‘We’ve had a bit of rest. The sooner we get to safety, the better. Agreed?’

  Xander nodded, but I knew he was exhausted. Setting off again so soon was the last thing he wanted to do. I felt the same way. Now that the adrenaline sparked by the goatherd’s visit had evaporated, I felt giddy with tiredness. Also, my leg was pulsing with heat again. I didn’t want to look at it, much less walk on it, but I had to. Like the other boys in the trench we gathered up our things at Mo’s instruction.

  The goatherd had been heading north. We set off to the south-west, following the dried-up stream bed again, at a tangent to the dirt road. I brought up the rear, and I don’t mind admitting it was a struggle. The wind had swung round so that we were heading straight into it, and if anything it had intensified.

  Combined with the heaviness of my leg, it felt like I was wading through treacle to keep up. The giddiness got worse too. I began to worry it was something more than tiredness, and I couldn’t shift the thought of poison running through my veins. We’d been going for about an hour and the sun, a white blur behind the clouds, was high in the sky, but the cloud layer was thick and black, so the landscape was bathed in a weird flat light. Everything looked as dead as I felt inside.

  The wind grew more hellish still. It buzzed with heavy static, full of grit scoured from the great emptiness ahead. I kept my face lowered and my eyes half shut, squinting at Amelia’s heels ahead of me, forcing myself to keep up, because keeping up was all I could do to get back to Mum. Mum, Mum, Mum. The word was a drumbeat in my head. Without it I could not have carried on.

  Mum.

  Mum.

  Mum.

  Out of nowhere an almighty thunderbolt blew the whole world a brilliant, deafening white. It was louder and brighter than any lightning strike I’d ever witnessed, and it stopped us dead. We all cowered. The lightning bolt had struck the ground just behind us. The air smelled of burnt earth.

  I turned, expecting to see a scorch mark or leaping flames, but in the immediate aftermath of the thunderbolt the gloom had thickened again. Despite this, I saw the men in the distance. This was no random car or wandering goatherd. It was six armed men, rifles slung across their midriffs, purposefully headed our way.

  53.

  The men were two hundred metres behind us, two-fifty at most. We’d never outrun them. Or at least, not all of us would. I was reeling from the lightning blast, pulsing with poison, delirious with exhaustion, but I still saw the situation for what it was. The men were coming for us all, but we weren’t all of equal value to them. Xander, Amelia and I could be ransomed; the others were cannon fodder. And let’s face it, in my state I was the slowest across this terrain. I grabbed hold of Mo and shouted, ‘Run for it! You and the rest. The three of us will hold them here.’

  ‘What?!’

  ‘They’re less likely to hurt us.’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘We’re just money to them. For ransom, not war. You guys might still get away. Go!’

  Mo stepped closer, put both hands on my shoulders and looked me straight in the face. ‘I’m not leaving you here,’ he said simply.

  ‘Go!’ I repeated. ‘We’re wasting time …’

  But none of the other kids had moved off. They were all still rooted to the spot, watching the men approach. I knew it was hopeless, but I couldn’t do the same. I grabbed hold of Mo with one hand and Amelia with the other and staggered forward into the howling gale. They came with me, and Xander followed too, and a few of the other kids trailed in our wake, but I was limping so badly I couldn’t even run properly.

  There was a metallic pop and the rushing wind split above us. Another shot followed, fizzing overhead. On I limped. But I was dragging the others now.

  ‘Jack,’ said Xander. ‘It’s OK, Jack, we tried.’

  The next shot hit the ground to our right, sending rock chippings and dust into the air.

  ‘We can’t outrun bullets,’ Xander said, gently pulling me to a stop.

  ‘Or indeed them,’ said Amelia, who’d turned to face the advancing men.

  I turned too. They’d halved the distance between us and they weren’t even running at speed, just jogging steadily towards us. As they came closer our little group gathered together. I looked from child to child. All of them had their eyes on the ground. They were so utterly resigned to whatever was coming next, I could have wept. The escape plan, such as it was, had failed, and since it had been my plan it was my fault.

  I lifted my gaze to meet the approaching men. Now that we’d stopped, they had slowed to a walk. They were close enough for me to see them properly. I expected to find General Sir among the six, possibly with Kayd and Liban. They would want revenge. So be it. It took me a second to realise that none of the three were there.

  ‘Uniforms,’ Xander murmured.

  ‘I was thinking the same thing,’ said Amelia.

  In my befuddled state I was slow to catch on, but yes, I recognised the uniform too. These guys were Somali military, dressed like the men who’d visited General Sir’s compound. In fact, the nearest man was the heavyset soldier who’d accompanied the Leopard guy to buy recruits. He had big sweat patches under his arms and a sheen across his forehead.

  But he wasn’t the reason my skin was crawling. That was the fault of the last man who came into view as the soldiers fanned out. Also wearing desert fatigues, but not the same government issue, this man was unarmed, white and unmistakable: Mr Leopold – the Leopard – whose photograph I’d first seen on Mum’s laptop screen. Unlike the big soldier, he wasn’t puffing. He looked us over with a hint of amusement in his deadpan grey eyes.

  ‘Jack, Amelia, Xander: great to catch up with you,’ he said at length. ‘And on such a lovely day. Quite a lightning strike, eh?’

  He didn’t wait for a response. Instead he turned to the assembled soldiers and conversed with them in their own language.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Amelia asked Mo.

  ‘They’re working out who takes who.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

  ‘The Leopard guy wants to split us up,’ he muttered. ‘He’s going to take you three on. We’re being dealt with separately.’

  The negotiation, if that’s what it was, seemed not to be going entirely smoothly. There were raised voices. A tall soldier with neatly rolled shirtsleeves appeared to object to what the Leopard was proposing. He was chewing something red and spat it out at the Leopard’s feet, both hands cradling his gun across his chest.

  ‘This doesn’t feel good,’ Amelia said beside me.

  I knew what she meant, but something about the Leopard’s calm was reassuring: he seemed more bored than upset about the tall soldier’s objection. He held himself very still and upright, as if to say the situation was simple as he saw it.

  By contrast, a million thoughts were piling through my head. How had they tracked us down so easily? Was it a tip-off from the goatherd, or had we been seen from the road, or was our route that predictable?

  If they were splitting us up that had to m
ean the Leopard had decided to claim the ransom money after all. We were in his hands now. Although I hated him for it, I had a reluctant sense this was probably a good thing. But what would happen to Mo and the others? What did ‘dealt with’ mean?

  ‘The rings,’ I said to Amelia.

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘Quick, give them to me.’

  ‘OK.’ She knelt, yanked open the neck of her left shoe, rolled down her sock, and pulled out a little roll of material which she’d wedged next to her ankle. With one eye on the negotiating adults, I unfolded it surreptitiously. Even in this dull light the rings glowed. I quickly balled the little parcel up again and turned to Mo.

  ‘Take these,’ I said.

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Just take them. They’re more use to you than us. Help this lot with them,’ I said, taking in the abject kids around us. ‘Wait for the right moment, with the right guard, then buy their freedom.’

  ‘I can’t accept,’ said Mo, pushing the rings back at me. ‘They are your currency.’

  ‘Worth more to you,’ I said. ‘Please.’

  Amelia said, ‘He’s right, Mo. It makes intrinsic sense and you know it.’

  What she meant by ‘intrinsic’ I had no idea, but Mo nodded.

  ‘Just hide them before …’ Xander petered out as the adults swung their attention back to us. Mercifully Mo had already accepted the little package. He slid it behind his back.

  The soldiers were in among us now, pushing and shoving, separating Xander, Amelia and me from the group. The Leopard stood to one side. He had his phone out and was tapping at it. Meanwhile his fat accomplice loomed over the three of us, one hand on the stock of his rifle, everything about him ordering ‘stay put’.

  The tall guy with the rolled sleeves seemed to be in charge of the other government soldiers. He barked at Mo and his rag-tag group, prompting them to jostle into two lines. Mo was in the middle of the nearest one. I’ve never known a tougher, cleverer or more resourceful kid, but right then he looked small and weary and utterly beaten.

  The tall guy with the rolled sleeves spat out another gout of red gunk and gave a further order, at which the phalanx of recaptured children started back the way we’d come. Mo turned briefly to the three of us as they were marched away. He tried to smile but his face was filled with despair.

  54.

  The fat, sweat-stained soldier used his gun barrel to point the way he wanted us to go. I hobbled along with the others in front of him. The Leopard followed last. My limping was pretty obvious. Still, he felt the need to point it out.

  ‘You’ve been in the wars, Jack.’

  I said nothing.

  ‘Is it painful?’

  I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of a truthful answer, so opted for more silence instead.

  ‘Well, we don’t have far to go. I’m sure you can make it.’

  He actually sounded quite concerned but was probably just worried he’d get less of a ransom for damaged goods. I gritted my teeth against the pain and kept going. I was feeling more and more light-headed. The relentless wind kept up its scouring. In my addled state it sounded like the sea, a jet, a chainsaw.

  I couldn’t bear the thought of what might happen to Mo and the others, but it seemed to be all I could think about as we staggered on. He’d been right about the impossibility of escape. However General Sir punished them would be on me. I’d forced Mo to flee the camp, co-opted a band of innocent youngsters to come with us, and led the lot of them straight into a deeper danger than they already faced. I’d failed Xander and Amelia. I’d failed myself. But worst of all, somehow, I’d failed Mo and his helpers.

  At some point my pace slowed so much Xander decided I needed helping. He dragged my right arm around his shoulders and took some of my weight. His shoulders were bony. Next, Amelia had hold of me from the other side. The three of us staggered on into the gale. It sounded like an engine now. In fact, it was an engine. A jeep was tearing up dust as it raced our way.

  ‘We should. Flag it. Need to. Down,’ I muttered. I could tell I wasn’t making much sense, but the jeep – which turned into a Land Rover as it got closer – seemed our last hope. If we could just alert the driver, maybe he’d save us. ‘Wave. Help,’ I managed, but nobody did anything about it.

  Miraculously, not fifty metres away, the Land Rover slowed to a halt. We were headed straight towards it. Maybe its driver would in fact come to the rescue. A ridiculous hope, I know, but it took me an age to realise the obvious: the 4x4 was coming for us deliberately because the Leopard had called for it.

  The very same soldier who’d accompanied him and his fat friend to buy boys for the army from General Sir was behind the wheel. We had marched back to the dirt road. Now the Leopard himself was opening up the Land Rover’s rear door and, since I seemed to be too weak to climb up onto the running board, helping Xander and Amelia bundle me inside.

  The adults took the front seats and once everyone was aboard the doors shut with a clump-clump. This cut the wind dead. In the silence before the 4x4 took off Amelia whispered two words: ‘Poor Mo.’

  A wave of guilt swept through me so hard I groaned out loud.

  Xander patted my shoulder and muttered, ‘They have something to bargain with at least.’

  ‘Correct,’ said Amelia. ‘Taking the rings into consideration, they’re better off than they were beforehand.’

  Xander was doing his best to be positive but his, ‘So are we, right?’ sounded tentative.

  The Leopard was just there, right in front of us. He craned round in his seat to look us over, even managing to fake some concern with those steady, wide-spaced eyes. I wanted to ask him where he was taking us, what would happen to Mo now, and how he could live with himself buying children and sending them off to war. But I couldn’t. I barely had enough energy to sit upright, much less speak. I slumped sideways across Xander and more or less lost consciousness. I could still hear people talking but they were making less sense than the jolting of the SUV on the rough road. Before I passed out entirely, I heard just one word, repeated by the Leopard. ‘Exhaustion.’

  55.

  Next thing I knew, I was lying in bed staring at a strip light. It was buzzing, restful as a lazy honeybee on a summer afternoon. And someone was gently kneading the bones in my left hand. I turned to thank whoever it was and saw Mum.

  Mum.

  Mum?

  ‘Mum!’

  I tried to hug her but something – a drip stuck in my right arm, it turned out – held me back. Mum leaned over me anyway, tears filling her eyes.

  ‘Amelia? Xander?’ My voice was papery.

  ‘They’re OK, Jack, don’t worry. You’re all going to be fine.’

  ‘My leg.’

  I couldn’t feel it, which worried me for a second, but my knee jerked up towards me when I told it to, so it was still there.

  ‘Yes, the doctor spotted that. He’s given you antibiotics to kill the infection and pain medication. The drip’s just saline. You were all very dehydrated. What stung you?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter now. You’re in safe hands here.’

  ‘Where are we?’

  ‘Nairobi. You arrived late yesterday night.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘This was all my fault.’

  ‘Nonsense! Pete explained everything.’

  ‘But I insisted on the extra dive and I made us fall for the pirates’ fake … wait, Pete!’

  ‘Yes, Pete. He was in the water for six hours, but he knew which way to swim and he made it ashore, a feat he’s justifiably proud of.’

  Tears were rolling down my cheeks now. Mum brushed them away with her fingertips. I stared up at her. To be together again, to feel her fingers on my face, was incredible. And Pete had made it to safety. The relief I felt about that, combined with the ferocity of my love for Mum in that moment, knocked the words out of me. I simply couldn’t speak. It didn
’t matter. We sat together in silence for a while, letting everything sink in.

  Eventually Mum said, ‘You’re safe now. Listen, I promised I’d tell Amelia and Xander when you woke up …’

  She wasn’t gone long and she had no luck persuading Amelia to wait before coming to see me until I’d slept some more. Amelia simply barged into my room with an, ‘If he’s finally awake, he’s awake.’

  Xander was close behind her, saying, ‘That’s a pretty obvious statement for you in particular to make.’

  I’d pushed myself up into a sitting position. Washed and wearing clean clothes, both my friends looked newly minted in the bright hospital light. I’d grown used to them in General Sir’s hand-me-down rags. The funny thing was, dressed in their own stuff, it was now obvious how much they’d shrunk. Xander’s T-shirt looked like it was hung on a hanger. And Amelia’s cheekbones were knife-blades.

  ‘You gave us a bit of a scare back there, Jack,’ said Xander.

  ‘But that’s beside the point now,’ said Amelia. ‘My real beef is with why you didn’t tell us you’d been envenomated.’

  ‘By which you mean bitten,’ Xander said, ‘or stung.’

  I shrugged. ‘You couldn’t have done anything to help, so what was the point?’

  She gave a ‘humph’ but didn’t elaborate.

  I turned back to Mum. ‘The ransom,’ I said. ‘We really didn’t want you to have to pay it.’

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I got the message.’

  ‘So, I’m sorry about that too,’ I said.

  ‘You needn’t be.’

  ‘Well, I am.’

  Xander cut in. ‘No, she means you actually don’t need to worry about the ransom.’

  ‘Nobody does,’ Mum added. But I could tell she was just trying to be kind to me, and I couldn’t stop myself shaking my head.

  Amelia spelled it out: ‘Because nobody paid a ransom, Jack.’