She had almost reached the other side when in her peripheral vision she caught sight of the soldier moving towards her. For a second, she panicked and slipped sideways, trying to get a grip on the rough wood to prevent her from plunging head first into the gorge.
13 THE STALKER
Ben immediately raised the gun slightly and yelled, “Stop right where you are!”
The soldier paused at the far end of the log, and held up his hands to show he wasn’t armed. One by one he turned out his pockets then rotated full circle to prove he wasn’t hiding anything. He joined his hands in an attitude of prayer and held them out like a beggar on the streets.
When Amie reached the other side of the gorge she sighed in relief. She looked back at the man on the other side. “I think he wants to come with us.”
“Well, he can bloody well think again, I’m not having any of them filthy soldiers near me ever again,” Shalima spat.
“Yes, yes I understand,” said Amie, “but he could be useful. We might need him.”
“Oh yeah sister, and what for? We’ve managed fine ‘til now.”
They gawped at the man as very slowly, keeping his hands in view he removed his uniform jacket and turned away from them. Even in the fading light they could quite clearly see the lash marks on his back, most of which had not healed and were still weeping. He turned to face them again. He was pleading.
“Poor bastard,” Ben murmured. “Wonder what he did to deserve that?”
“Oh God,” Amie exclaimed, “if they treated him like that we can’t leave him here on his own, we have to let him cross.”
“Oh yeah and what if it’s a trap?” Shalima wasn’t convinced. “They’re all animals,” she spat on the ground.
Ben answered calmly. “If the army was with him, they would have been blasting away by now. I think he is on his own.”
His words reminded them they were standing on a high point and possibly visible. Amie immediately ducked down.
“We’ll let him across and then tie him up,” she suggested. “He might be useful. And there’s something else. He might know where they’ve taken Jonathon and Charles. We’ve not thought about anything but escaping. Has anyone an idea what we do now?”
They shook their heads. They had no action plan at all. They weren’t happy to have the extra company, but they were scared to let him go in case he went back to fetch the other soldiers. Allowing him across was the lesser of two evils.
Amie and Mrs Motswezi nodded to the soldier. He replaced his jacket and began his slow journey along the log, while Shalima sprinted back to the Land Rover to find something to tie him up with. From his slow and deliberate movements, it was apparent the soldier was in a lot of pain, and several flecks of blood oozed through his coat as he felt his way across.
When he reached the rocks, he showed no signs of aggression, but Ben wasn’t taking any chances and kept him firmly in his sights, never for a moment, losing his grip on the rifle.
Shalima bound his hands tightly behind his back, ignoring the blood on his jacket and frog-marched him to the truck. The rest followed behind, and squeezed in after him.
“So, which way?” asked Shalima, settling herself behind the driving wheel.
“Continue on down the river,” suggested Ben who was now crammed in the back with both Amie and the soldier. “We could make for the coast.”
“Could we find our way back to Dirk and Helen?” Amie asked as they bounced over the rough ground. Shalima’s driving skills left a lot to be desired she thought, as the girl seemed to prefer to keep a straight line rather than steer round obstacles.
“I’m not sure,” Ben replied. “If we go further east and then cut south, we could maybe find them, but I’m not sure.”
“Even if we took the road from Apatu to Umeru, I don’t think I’d recognize the place where we turned off,” Amie added.
“Let’s put a bit more distance between them and us and decide later,” Shalima was adamant. “I don’t wanna be anywhere near those buggers.”
“They could be anywhere out here looking for us.”
“Not unless they want to hoof it,” Shalima looked smug.
“She disabled the other truck before we left,” Ben explained. “It will take them a while to get mobile again.”
“Superwoman,” muttered Amie uncharitably as her head hit the roof yet again. If she’s not careful, she’ll stuff up this truck and then where will we be? The daylight faded quickly, and it was all too easy to hit something in the dark.
Up until now, Amie had not had a moment to think how desperately disappointed she was not to find Jonathon. She watched the landscape rush by as tears coursed down her cheeks. He was further away than before, and now he was in even greater danger. They could’ve taken him anywhere. Would she ever see him again? She could try to get information out of this unwelcome, injured soldier, but he didn’t speak their languages. It was all such a mess.
She caught sight of Angelina sitting on Mrs Motswezi’s lap in the front seat and that cheered her, if only she could work out what future she could give this child.
Would it be kinder to leave her with her old headmistress? Could Amie stand to lose Jonathon and Angelina as well? She didn’t know. All she was sure of was her heart ached and she wanted to cry herself into oblivion. But that was hardly an option sitting here in a truck bouncing through rural Africa at night. She’d have to ‘pull herself together’, as her father used to say.
It was now totally dark so they stopped for the night in what looked like a clearing and made camp as best they could. Everyone was hungry, tired and thirsty. Food and drink were a must and Ben rummaged in the bag to see what Shalima had liberated from the camp stores.
Ben burst out laughing. “I am not complaining Shalima,” he chuckled, “but your uh, supermarket shopping is not very impressive.” He held up several tins. “These are all the same. I cannot read the writing but I think it is some kind of meat.” He continued to count them. “We have twenty cans of the same meat. I hope we all like it!”
Shalima shrugged and turned her back on him. “Next time, go and raid the bloody stores yerself,” she snarled.
Oh dear, thought Amie, up until now we’ve all been pulling together. Let’s not have any dissent. We need each other if we’re going to get out of this alive.
“Before we settle down for the night,” she suggested, “perhaps we should plan what we’re going to do tomorrow.”
There was silence. Now their mad dash to freedom was over, at least for the moment, it was time to make some decisions.
“We should start by asking each of us what we want to do,” Amie continued when no one spoke. “Shalima?”
“Well, I ain’t going back home, that’s for sure,” she replied. “Got some sort of relative in France, she went to live over there, think I might join her. She won’t tell the parents either, she’s cool. I’ve had enough of this war stuff, and it’s about time I had a normal life.”
“Right,” said Amie. “Ben?”
Ben shuffled his feet in the sand for a few moments. “I will go to Apatu, see if I can get work again.”
“You have family in Apatu?” Amie asked.
“Some, but then again I might go up north.”
“But you are Kawa!” exclaimed Mrs Motswezi, “Your people are no longer the big people.”
“Yes, but we want peace now, we did not start the war,” said Ben. “We do not like war. We are peaceful.”
“I have nowhere to go,” Mrs Motswezi said sadly. “My village is all gone, all the people are dead. These people who attack us, they do not want peace. They want war! Where do I go now?”
“But your sister?” Amie asked gently, “you didn’t say …”
“I do not know what happened, it was so dark and there were so many bullets as we crossed the river and then the crocodile took the soldier.” She paused. “When I got to the other side, my sister was not with me, I could not see her anywhere. I think she went under the water
or they put bullets in her.”
No one knew what to say. Mrs Motswezi continued. “I must go to where the children need me. There are many AIDS orphans I can care for. They need me.”
“Guess Amie you wanna find yer man, right?” Shalima said.
“Yes, but I don’t see how, I don’t even know where they’ve taken him.”
Everyone turned to look at the soldier who was propped against the back wheel of the Land Rover. His hands and feet were securely tied and since being thrown into the truck he hadn’t uttered one word, not even when Shalima, none too gently, rubbed cream from one of the unmarked tubes she’d found in the first aid kit, all over his back. She had no idea what the cream was good for, but at least she made some sort of effort.
“Can’t see we’ll get any sense out of him,” Shalima remarked. “None of us speak proper Arabic and he don’t speak none of our languages.”
“I have little Engleesh,” said the soldier, taking them all by surprise.
Amie pounced. “So, where have they taken the two white prisoners? Tell me where they’ve gone. Who took them away? What are they going to do with them?” It took all of her self-control not to shake the information out of him.
The soldier looked alarmed and tried to ease himself away from her. The fear shone in his eyes as he tried to remember the few English words he knew. “Not know place, only big camp, many people, far away.”
“Where, where is it? How far away?” Amie persisted.
The soldier shook his head. “I not know. Big place, many IS there. They make public display of power from secret place.”
“That’s no bloody help at all!” Shalima exclaimed. “He must know more than that.”
“Why did you follow us?” Ben asked.
“They do many bad things to me and to women. They hurt me. They hurt me bad.”
“Yes, we have seen,” Mrs Motswezi said. “You try to run away?”
“No, afraid to run. They hurt me they say I help women to go.”
“So, he got punished for what you did Amie,” Shalima remarked acidly. “Ha! He’s yer responsibility now.”
“What’s your name?” said Ben.
“Hussein.”
“OK … Hussein … Not much help though is it. Still no idea where to go.” Amie was dispirited. “Not even an idea which way we should start out tomorrow.”
“Well, we won’t get far,” Shalima pointed to the Land Rover. “The tank’s only half full and the extra fuel tank on the back ain’t full neither. No idea how far these things get on petrol, but we can’t drive forever.”
“So, we make for the coast?” Ben suggested. “We can follow the river.”
“And then?” Shalima wanted to know.
“There are small towns by the sea I hear,” Mrs Motswezi added. “We can get things there.”
“Wiv what?” Shalima wanted to know. “I ain’t got no money, have you?”
“No,” Amie said, answering for all of them. “I don’t even have my backpack any more, it’s still in the hole across the river opposite the camp.”
There was another long spell of silence until finally Shalima spoke up. “Well, if we don’t know where we is going, let’s decide where we ain’t going,” she said.
“Towards the camp.”
“West.”
“Back there.”
At least everyone was in agreement about one thing.
“Then we have the option of going north, east or south,” Shalima observed wryly.
“Not north, sorry Ben,” said Amie. “We have no idea if we’d be safe in Apatu and we’d stick out like sore thumbs. We must go where we can get help. It’s all got too big for us to cope with on our own.”
“To Mr Dirk’s camp?” Ben asked.
“No, we need more help than that,” Amie was positive. “The best idea is to make for Ruanga. We have to speak to people in power, people who can do something.”
“Ruanga people not help here in Togodo,” Mrs Motswezi said.
“I wasn’t thinking of the Africans. No, the British.”
“Why would they help us?” Ben wanted to know.
“Because Jonathon and Charles are British.” Amie wasn’t going to mention the part about the men working for the British government.
“Gee, thanks a bunch,” Shalima snarled. “You think I wanna get involved with them! They’d pounce on me and lock me up. I can’t get involved with British government people, no way!”
“We’d keep you in the background,” Amie suggested. “Anyway, how do you think you’re going to get to France? Hike across the Sahara? Look, none of us have passports, we’re in a bigger mess than we realize.”
“Yeah and how are we gonna explain him?” Shalima nodded at Hussein who was trying to follow the conversation.
Amie ran her fingers through her hair. “I don’t know. I really don’t know,” she said. “But one way or another we have to get to civilization.”
“We must drive to the nearest big town and find someone to help us,” Ben said, feeling tempers were beginning to rise.
“Wait a minute,” Shalima remembered something. “In that TV programme about you Amie, you stayed in Ruanga with a British couple. What about them?”
Ah, The Robbins in Umeru, they would help. And then maybe we could then go further south to see the Mathesons! Amie realised that was an option, maybe their only ultimate option. If they had enough fuel to get as far as Atari, the capital of Ruanga, all the embassies were there. They could even hand Hussein over to one or other of them. She didn’t look forward to the prospect of going to them for a second time after getting herself into yet another jam, but no other solution seemed likely.
“So, we all gonna stay together?” Shalima asked.
Everyone except Hussein nodded. He had no choice.
With the decision made, and after choosing who was to keep watch, they made themselves as comfortable as possible to grab a few hours sleep.
Angelina had been asleep for ages, curled up on the front passenger seat of the Land Rover, and while Amie watched her gently breathing, a small smile on her face, she couldn’t help but wonder what the future would be for this little child of Africa.
No one slept very well. One by one they awoke and rubbed their aching joints. After grabbing a snack, drinking as much water as they wanted before refilling the bottles in the river, they set off in the early dawn light.
They continued east, following the ever-widening river, until they met the road that ran north-south along the coast. For a brief moment, Amie thought Shalima was going to turn left, but at the last minute she turned towards Ruanga.
The sheer bliss of travelling on a dirt road, even though it hadn’t been graded in a long time, was so much easier than careering through the bush, and everyone seemed more cheerful. Everyone that is, except Hussein, who looked decidedly nervous. He had no idea where he was going, or what would happen to him when they got there.
At odd intervals they caught sight of the sea, sparkling and dancing as the sun rose and painted the waves a bright golden yellow.
Angelina was entranced, and Amie couldn’t resist the urge to ask Shalima to stop for a moment so she could take the child down to the shoreline.
“You must be out yer tiny mind,” grumbled Shalima as she slowed the truck to a stop.
“Only for ten minutes, promise,” begged Amie, scrambling out as soon as the truck stopped. “Come on Angelina, come and put your toes in the sea. Here, it’s called the Indian Ocean and the water is lovely and warm.” This was not the first time Amie had paddled along this coast, and she knew the sea was seldom cold; people swam all year round. After the freezing seas that washed the shores of England Amie wanted to remind herself again, and show Angelina something new and exciting at the same time.
They tripped over the wide golden beach and Angelina was mesmerized. She hesitated by the water, afraid to go too close, even when Amie paddled confidently in the shallow waves.
Mrs Motswezi joined them an
d said she had never been in the ocean before, although she had often bought bottles of sea water that she used to cure all kinds of illnesses. Amie laughed when the teacher told her that in one old African folk tale she had heard as a child, the sea came to meet the land in the morning, but at night, it disappeared far away to feed. How else would you explain the movement of the tides? Amie reasoned. That would take a lot of complicated talking in a rural village a few decades ago.
With great caution Angelina approached the water, inches at a time, and when the first waves tickled her toes, she shrieked and ran away. She ventured a little closer and buried her feet in the wet sand. She giggled at the cool feeling on her ankles and watched in amazement as the waves came and went, and then suddenly she laughed. She bent over and scooped some water in her hands, and before Amie could warn her, she tried to drink it. Angelina pulled a face and spat it out. “Bad, bad water,” she said and she laughed again.
“No. Good water,” Amie said. “The water will help to make your feet better, but not for drinking.” Then she laughed too, this was the first time Angelina had relaxed and enjoyed herself. How much Amie wanted to give the child many more years of happiness.
Shalima was already screaming at them from the truck to hurry up and reluctantly they walked back up the beach and climbed into the car.
It was a long, hot drive, even with the windows open, speeding past clumps of prickly pear, dusty bushes and the ever-present acacia trees. Occasionally they caught a cooling breeze blowing in from the sea, but as the sun rose, so did the temperature in the car. Shalima fiddled with the knobs to find the air conditioning, until Amie reminded her that turning it on would use up more fuel. It was unlikely, she added, that an old truck like this would even have air conditioning.
They sat and suffered, the sweat pouring down their faces and saturating their clothes. Amie was still dressed in the same outfit she had put on before leaving Dirk’s camp and was longing for clean clothes and a good shower. But it was a lot better than walking and they only stopped for comfort breaks and to raid the food supplies to keep them going. They saw a few cars going in the opposite direction and overtook a couple more, but generally the road was quiet. Even Mrs Motswezi noticed there were only a couple of villages and not as many people on foot as was usual in Africa.
Amie in Africa Box Set 1 Page 53