Blood Trail

by Tony Park

  The rifle opened up on them again, pinning them all down.

  Sipho was just about out of sight when the bullet hit him.

  He stumbled again, the momentum of his run propelling him mercilessly into the unforgiving surface of the gravel road.

  ‘Sipho!’ Sannie called.

  There was no answer. The gunfire stopped.

  Mia ran to Sipho and dropped to the ground next to him.

  By the time Sannie reached them, it was clear Sipho was dead.

  Chapter 16

  Mia returned, dirty and bloodied, to her quarters. It was after ten pm and Captain van Rensburg had told her she was no longer needed in Killarney, which had become a crime scene thronged with police.

  Julianne was with Sue Barker, and despite Mia’s offer to stay with the traumatised woman, Julianne told Mia to get some rest. Her protest had been half-hearted – she was shattered, emotionally and physically, by the day’s events. She and Bongani had been on the move for longer than any of the others now involved in the search and investigation, starting with chasing the poachers just after dawn. Graham and Oscar were helping the police with a door-to-door night-time search of homes in Killarney.

  As she reached for the doorhandle a man appeared from the room next to hers, which had been vacant for some time.

  ‘Hi.’

  It was the Canadian, the researcher.

  ‘Jeff,’ he reminded her.

  She tried a smile but had no idea if it showed on her face. ‘Hello.’

  ‘You look beat.’

  She managed a small, unexpected laugh. ‘You know how to flatter a girl.’

  ‘Tough day?’

  ‘And night.’ All she had wanted was to crawl into bed and, like a child, pull the covers over her head to hide from the horrors she had witnessed. Now, however, she found herself on edge, almost scared to go inside, in case there was something, or someone, lurking there. I killed a man.

  Jeff reached into the pocket of his khaki shorts and pulled out a joint. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’

  She shrugged. Drugs were banned – Julianne sometimes employed one of Sean’s dogs, cross-trained in narcotics detection, to sweep the staff and back-of-house areas of the lodge, although marijuana was technically legal for personal use in South Africa.

  ‘No problem with me,’ Mia said. ‘Just don’t let Julianne catch you.’

  ‘She was kind enough to let me stay here a few days while I carry out my interviews.’ He started to put the cigarette back in his shorts.

  ‘Be a shame to waste it,’ she said. ‘I’m, like, so exhausted, but I don’t think I could sleep.’

  Jeff smiled. He was a good-looking guy. He took out a lighter and lit it, took a hit to get it going, then passed it to her. ‘You don’t mind breaking social distancing protocols?’

  She inhaled deeply, held the smoke in and passed the zol back to him, then exhaled. Jeff pulled up two plastic chairs, one from outside each of their rooms. He took a drag and passed it back to her. A scops owl chirped nearby; normally the shrill call calmed her, but now it set her nerves further on edge.

  Mia settled into the chair, hoping the drug would soon take effect. She passed it back to Jeff.

  He took another toke. ‘Pretty shitty day and night, from what I’ve heard around camp.’

  She nodded.

  ‘Want to talk about it?’

  Mia closed her eyes.

  ‘That bad?’

  She nodded, exhaling a stream of smoke towards the starry sky. Mia rubbed her eyes.

  ‘Want a beer?’ Jeff asked.

  Mia looked at her watch. ‘Why not?’

  He got up, returning a minute later with two green bottles of Windhoek Lager.

  ‘At least you’ve learned about good beer since you’ve been here.’

  ‘My first lesson.’ He used one bottle, upturned, to lever the cap off the other. ‘That was my second lesson.’

  She took the proffered bottle. ‘Third?’

  He pulled his cigarette lighter out of his pants pocket again and used the end of it, hooked under the cap and over the crook of the finger around the neck of the bottle, to flick this one open. He clinked glass on glass. ‘Third.’

  Mia chuckled. ‘You’re almost African now.’

  ‘I kind of am. My father’s South African; he moved to Canada in the early 1990s and met my mom there. I was born there. Sure you don’t want to talk?’

  Mia closed her eyes again and drew a breath. Her head was fuzzy, not quite spinning, but the smoke and beer were calming her. ‘I killed a man today.’

  ‘My God. I’m sorry. I heard a poacher was shot and a girl went missing, but I didn’t know . . .’

  ‘It’s all right.’ She rubbed her temple, feeling a headache coming on. She should have remembered from her university days that dagga did not agree with her. ‘In fact, it’s not all right. Two men were killed in Killarney and two more girls have gone missing recently. It’s a fucking nightmare.’

  ‘That’s crazy.’ He sucked the last from the roach. ‘I’m not the greatest at consoling people, but do you, like, need a hug or something?’

  That sounded crazy, but she could not think why not. ‘Sure.’

  He scooted his chair closer to hers and put his arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder. He smelled of marijuana smoke and Sunlight soap. Mia wondered what Graham would think if he showed up now. He would be jealous, but she wondered if he really cared for her, or just wanted sex. She sometimes wondered the same thing about her feelings for him.

  ‘What’s going on in this place?’ Jeff said. ‘I thought Julianne Clyde-Smith prided herself on running the safest reserve in Africa, for wildlife at least.’

  ‘She did, does.’ Mia eased out of his embrace. It had been nice, if weird, to feel the warmth of another, but she did not want to lead Jeff on. ‘And it was the safest, for a time, though she’s had troubles in the past. Everyone thought that was all over, but now she’s lost several rhinos and, worse, the girl, just as tourism is starting to open up again. This could crush her.’

  ‘How did – whoever – get away with the girl, do you think?’

  Mia went over the facts as she knew them, as much for own benefit as his, trying once more to work out what had happened. ‘And then I killed the poacher and everyone, Bongani and me included, lost the tracks of the remaining guy.’

  ‘He vanished?’ Jeff said.

  ‘They vanished.’

  ‘Wow. Like, totally disappeared?’

  ‘Yes. I can’t work it out.’

  Jeff stubbed out the last, tiny remains of the joint. ‘There must be a rational explanation.’

  ‘Says the man studying umuthi for a living.’

  ‘I didn’t say I believed in it, well, not all of it.’

  Mia rubbed her head again. ‘What do you believe in?’

  ‘The power of suggestion.’

  ‘And?’

  He shrugged. ‘Love? God? I don’t know. Ritual.’

  ‘Let me ask you a direct question, no philosophical bullshit,’ Mia said, fixing him with her gaze.

  ‘Shoot.’

  ‘Do you believe this poacher we’re trying to track – and failing at it – is defeating us with umuthi?’

  Jeff held her stare for a while, the corners of his mouth eventually turning up. ‘You’ve just answered your own question.’

  ‘How so?’

  He held up a hand. ‘First up, it helps that you’re now stoned.’

  ‘Yes, agreed, but it’s a serious question, and I don’t see how I answered it by asking.’

  ‘You did,’ Jeff said. ‘The very fact that you are considering the intangible, the paranormal, that you are the tiniest bit willing to suspend belief and stop looking for a rational reason for how this guy is running rings around you is
proof that his medicine is working.’

  She shook her head. ‘Bullshit.’

  ‘Tell me,’ he said, placing a hand on her forearm to make her look back at him. She did, but didn’t move his hand, and nor did he. ‘Did the poacher leave anything behind, any signs of his magic?’

  ‘Yes. He placed some woven string across the trail he’d been using.’

  ‘And what happened?’

  ‘Bongani freaked out, is what happened,’ Mia said. ‘I’ve heard of that sort of distraction being used, but never seen it in action. I’m normally tracking animals, not people.’

  ‘There you go.’

  ‘There you go, what?’

  ‘The fact that Bongani had a reaction meant that the poacher’s muthi worked, that it did the trick. It forced him, for however long, to lose concentration and stop focusing on the job at hand.’

  Mia slumped back in her chair again, the fatigue once more catching up with her. The marijuana might have given her mind a moment’s reprieve, but the fatigue and beer were now winning the battle for her body again. ‘Yes, but not for long.’

  ‘That might have been enough.’

  ‘I lost the tracks as well,’ Mia said.

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ Jeff said.

  ‘Ha! I’ll have you know I’m a pretty good tracker.’

  ‘Very good,’ Jeff said, ‘from what I hear, but unlike Graham you’re a believer.’

  ‘In umuthi?’

  ‘In power,’ he said, spreading his arms wide, ‘the force, whatever you want to call it. Tell me, when you track an animal do you try to get into its mind?’

  ‘Yes, we do.’

  ‘That’s not out of a textbook, that’s power; shape-shifting, irrational anthropomorphic shit.’

  ‘Yes and no. It’s partly out of a book, like the field guides we read to learn about animals, birds and reptiles. We learn their behaviour and try to use that knowledge to predict what they’re going to do at certain times of the day. Like, if it’s hot, they’ll go towards water for a drink, or seek shade from the sun.’

  Jeff shook his head. ‘You just admitted, you try to get into its mind. Don’t tell me you never stop, close your eyes and try to think like whatever it is you’re following.’

  She only had to consider that for a moment. ‘OK, so, maybe, yes.’

  ‘That’s what the San, the bushmen, used to do, same as native Americans and many other first nations people with a strong affinity to the land. You’re just learning to use the magic that tens of thousands of years has bred out of white European people.’

  ‘Sounds nice and romantic, but here’s the deal, Jeff. There’s a man out there who’s better than us and he’s getting away from us, even from the dogs, every time.’

  ‘Because his magic’s stronger than yours.’

  ‘Now that’s just the dagga talking, Jeff.’

  She shivered, and knew it was because she was tired and had stopped moving. Her bed was calling, but now she felt guilty, knowing the police, Graham and probably Sean and the others were all still out on the job. Bongani had stayed in Killarney, to sleep the night at his sister’s place. His family – his wife and three children – had been staying with her parents during the rolling lockdowns, further north, at Acornhoek, on the way to Hoedspruit.

  ‘Anything that puts you at a disadvantage creates an advantage for your opponent.’

  ‘Even a piece of string across the trail?’

  He nodded. ‘Even that. Just think about it. The string of umuthi distracted you. It might have been put at that precise place for a reason. It might have been there that the poacher started work on a false trail, or doubled back, or –’

  ‘Or put some socks over his shoes.’

  Jeff raised his eyebrows. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. They do that because it makes it harder for us to make out a tread pattern or footprint. I didn’t think that the poacher might have combined two tricks with one.’

  ‘Then his muthi worked. Want another beer?’

  Mia shook her head. ‘I need to at least try to sleep, Jeff.’

  ‘OK. Put your head down, even if only for an hour or two. You’ll be no good to anyone dead on your feet, Mia.’

  ‘I guess.’

  He yawned. ‘And I’ve got some more interviews in the morning.’

  ‘OK, ’night.’ She got up and went to go into her room.

  ‘Oh, Mia?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Which umuthi did you take today?’

  She felt her face flush a little, despite her tiredness. ‘Who said I did?’

  He looked in her eyes. ‘You’re a believer, or, at least, you hedge your bets. There’s nothing wrong with that.’

  ‘You think you know everything.’

  He shook his head. ‘No, not at all, but this is what I do, I study this shit. And it’s nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. Did you know that Russian cosmonauts piss on the wheels of the vehicle that takes them to the launch pad?’

  Mia let out a little laugh. ‘No, I did not.’

  ‘These people are scientists, military people, no-nonsense types. Even when they’ve taken non-Russians up to the space station they make them piss on the wheels as well. It’s a ritual.’

  ‘Superstition, more like it.’

  He shrugged. ‘Same thing, except what those cosmonauts have in common with poachers, and you and Bongani, and probably most of the other rangers I’ve spoken to, is that you’re involved in high-risk, high-reward activities.’

  ‘Reward as in money?’

  ‘Partly, but for you the reward would have been successfully tracking someone – the poacher you’re after.’

  She thought about it. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Let me ask you again,’ Jeff said. ‘Which umuthi did you take?’

  ‘OK, you got me. Bongani has this stuff he chews, powdery stuff made from some kind of ground-up bark. It’s to keep him safe from danger, like wild animals.’

  ‘Why did you take it?’

  ‘Because I was going after a guy with a gun.’

  ‘Yes, but why did you think it would help you any more than your own skills would?’

  She paused to think again, then shrugged. ‘I don’t know, I guess I was, like you say, hedging my bets.’

  ‘You were going into a high-risk, high-reward situation.’

  She nodded. ‘When I chewed the stuff, it helped me. I won’t say it was physical, or physiological or whatever, but the act of taking something focused me, calmed me, maybe. Perhaps there was actually something in the powder?’

  ‘Or maybe,’ Jeff said, ‘the act just gave you that little bit of confidence. And in this case, you could say it worked – you weren’t shot, and you got one of them.’

  ‘I . . .’ Mia choked on her words and her eyes started to burn as the image of the man she’d killed flashed up in her mind. She blinked to try to hold back the tears, but they squeezed through her tight-pressed lids. ‘I . . .’

  Jeff wrapped his arms around her again and she did not resist. Mia sobbed into his shirt, her body heaving with release as she did so.

  ‘Come on,’ he said gently, ‘let’s get you inside.’

  Mia let Jeff lead her into her room. He kicked the door closed behind him with his foot, but she felt nothing but solace in his embrace as he steered her towards her bed.

  He eased her down on the bed and she kicked off her boots. She sat there on the edge, almost as if she had forgotten how to get into bed. He lifted her legs and swung her onto the mattress.

  ‘God, I’m exhausted,’ she muttered.

  He pulled back the cover on the other side of the double bed. ‘Roll over.’

  She did as he commanded and, awkwardly, she wriggled under the covers that he held up for her.

  ‘’Night, Mia.’
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  She blinked up at him. ‘That guy I killed – I can’t stop thinking about him.’

  He looked down at her and nodded. ‘I figured it was something like that.’

  She started to cry again. ‘Will you stay with me, Jeff, just a little while, please?’

  ‘If you’re sure?’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘Then OK.’ Fully clothed, and smelling of weed and beer, he lay down on his back next to her, though on top of the blankets, folded his hands across his chest and closed his eyes.

  Mia felt his warmth, and it was enough just to know there was another human being in the room with her, to allow her to close her own eyes and let the tiredness wash over her and take her away.

  Sleep came quickly, but so, too, did the nightmare. She heard the man talking again, in Xitsonga, telling his comrade he would see him again.

  ‘Where?’ Mia asked the dead man as he stood there, in front of her, bleeding from the gunshot wound she had inflicted on him, but showing no other ill effect.

  ‘In your life,’ he said to her, in English.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You have killed me, so now I will be with you, forever.’

  He was going to haunt her, and he had said it so matter-of-factly, so calmly, that it made the curse all the more terrifying. In her dream Mia ran through the bush, past an elephant, who turned his big head to watch her as he fanned himself with his ears.

  Breathless, Mia leaned against a leadwood tree, but when she peered around it the bleeding man was there, watching her. He had materialised, like the ghost he was, out of nowhere. She carried on, trying to escape him, but he was always there, appearing from behind the next tree, or waiting for her, here, when she returned to her room.

  Jeff was there, as well, and he was naked, above her now, making love to her, and she felt bad, because she was supposed to be in love with Graham, but he was not there.

  Is this a dream? she asked herself. She could feel Jeff’s hands, soft, unlike Graham’s. Mia smelled the marijuana and knew she was still stoned.

  Real or dream?

  Her arousal felt real, the warmth spreading from her lower belly out to her fingertips, her heart fluttering as Jeff kissed the inside of her thighs. She tried to call Graham’s name, or was it Jeff’s? She was confused and couldn’t tell if a sound escaped her mouth.