Red Earth

by Tony Park

  ‘Should, but doesn’t,’ Themba said, regaining some of his defiance.

  ‘Yebo. Yes, I agree, Themba,’ Mike said. ‘Not nearly enough benefit comes through to the surrounding areas from our country’s national parks. But you people are the next generation. If you are in the system, working with national parks people, perhaps in the organisation, or if you’re in business or politics, then in the future you will find ways to involve the local communities more in the business of wildlife and the business of conservation.’

  Themba had extended the rifle, one handed, trying hard to still the tremor in his skinny arm – he was no longer that weak, for he had spent the past year exercising his body as well as his brain. ‘Take this back.’

  Mike had stood again, held out his two hands and taken the weapon. ‘Thank you. One day this will be yours.’

  *

  Lerato stirred, woke and rubbed her eyes. She was shivering and it took her a moment to realise where she was. When she did, she felt like crying.

  The baby gave its first small cry of the day as the sun crested the ridge towards the coast, a fingernail of red visible through the dust that hung low over the hills. Themba, she saw, was looking in the same direction.

  She could not believe she was here, in the middle of the bush, a fugitive. She had thought Themba was a smart, quiet guy, and kind of cute in a slightly dorky way, but she’d had no idea he would be related to a car thief or seemed to know how to find a tracking device in a stolen vehicle. She wondered what other secrets he was hiding from her. He must have sensed that she was awake because he stood and came to her, offering a biscuit and jam for her and a jar of baby food.

  ‘I’m not his mother.’ The baby grizzled. At least he had kept her warm.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Themba said. ‘I’ll feed him if you like.’

  ‘No, I will. I’m cold. Freezing.’ She nuzzled the baby into her breast, silencing him for the moment, clinging to his warmth. She felt her tears well as she pressed her face to him, but then he started to cry. She sniffed. Lerato knew she must feed the child.

  Themba took the binoculars they had found in the Fortuner and scanned the hills and valleys for signs of movement. ‘I can see a giraffe.’

  Lerato sighed as she wrenched the lid off the jar of baby food. ‘Enough with the animals. We’re not on a sightseeing trip, Themba!’

  ‘No sign of the men who were following us, which is good.’

  Lerato spooned some food into the baby who, at first, seemed hungry enough to appreciate it, but he soon started wriggling against her and closing his mouth so that the food smeared on his grubby little face. She wanted to scream in frustration. ‘Eat.’

  She set the food and the baby down. He started to crawl towards Themba. She switched on her cell phone. ‘Still no signal. And my battery is nearly dead.’

  ‘We need to get moving soon. They could still be looking for us.’

  She pulled a frown. ‘This is so not right, Themba. I’m cold, I’m scared and I’m filthy. I am not spending another night in the bush. I need to call my father. He’ll be going crazy.’

  ‘I know. I understand. There is a main road that comes into the national park, north of here, from the Nyalazi Gate. We can flag down a car and ask them to take you to Hilltop Camp, the main camp in Hluhluwe, or if they’re going the other way, then out to the gate and the nearest police station.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I can’t risk it, Lerato. The police think I’m involved in the car theft.’

  ‘That’s crazy, Themba. Look, my dad’s rich, right? I’ll get him to get you a lawyer. We can go to the police together. I’ll tell the cops you had nothing to do with the car theft.’

  He seemed to ignore her words. ‘I need to find a guy, a man called Mike Dunn. I trust him. He will take me to the police, or, better, to the national parks security people. He knows them all. When I bring the rhino horn with me Mike will know I didn’t kill the animals it came from, and it will help with my story, show that I am not a criminal.’

  Lerato thought about the words Themba’s horrible cousin Joseph had said before he died, about Themba being ‘good’ at what he was doing, looking for the tracking device in the stolen Toyota. Try as she might, though, she couldn’t picture him as a dangerous boy, even if he had a chequered past. ‘Themba, no matter what you’ve done in life, you’re not a criminal now. You spend your life with your nose in a book, you’re a model student. Why would anyone even think you were anything other than an innocent victim of a crime?’

  He stood and raised the binoculars to his eyes and looked south again, for the men who would still be following them.

  ‘Themba?’

  He said nothing and couldn’t look at her.

  She felt the dread flooding through her body. ‘Themba, you’re not in trouble with the law, are you?’

  He drew a deep breath. ‘Lerato, I’m sorry. I am a criminal.’ He told her of his history with Joseph and of the charges and the commuted sentence that had led to him getting involved with the rhino guards, and Mike Dunn. He looked away from her and went back to scanning the bush with the binoculars.

  Lerato didn’t know what to say. She watched the baby. The little one seemed to prefer crawling around in the red earth putting dirt and bugs in his mouth to eating proper food, though he spat out more than he took in.

  ‘I don’t know how to do this,’ Lerato said at last, and she felt the tears start to run down her cheeks again.

  Themba lowered the binoculars and turned to her.

  She sniffed. ‘I don’t know if I can trust you any more.’

  Part 2

  Inqe had returned from Hluhluwe to his home in the Kruger National Park, but he could not rest.

  There was a hungry chick squawking in the nest he and his partner had made. It was a fine construction of sticks lined with soft grasses atop a grand leadwood tree that had stood near the Sabie River for eight hundred years.

  His kind had been in Africa for millennia, but they were disappearing. Each year more and more died, electrocuted by high-voltage powerlines and poisoned by farmers and poachers. It had taken nearly two months for their single chick to hatch, and by the time he fledged they would have been feeding him for four months.

  His partner dropped a skerrick of rotten meat into the chick’s ever-hungry mouth. Their future and that of their offspring was anything but certain.

  So he flew, again, this time to the north and the east across the border with Mozambique. Game was starting to cross back into the vast tracts of the Great Limpopo Transfrontier Park, which until a few years ago had been the preserve of hunters and poachers. That journey, however, was as risky for the land dwellers as it was for vultures.

  Below him, in the dry bed of the Shingwedzi River, others had found a hearty meal, the carcass of a slain elephant. Inqe joined the flock and descended. The kill was fresh, and just one tusk had been removed from the old bull.

  The sound of gunfire startled Inqe and the other birds, who rose in panic and temporarily sought refuge in the nearest trees. When the shooting stopped it was followed by the sound of vehicle engines.

  Men arrived to inspect the dead elephant. It was a bittersweet moment, as battle often was. An elephant had been killed, but the arrival of the first of the vultures had alerted a national parks patrol to the presence of a kill. The rangers had investigated, disturbing the poachers before they could remove both tusks and poison the carcass. A chase had ensued.

  In the back of the patrol’s Land Cruiser was the body of a poacher, and in the following vehicle were another two in handcuffs.

  When the men departed, Inqe and his kind set about cleaning the elephant. When he was done, his belly full of food to be regurgitated for his hungry chick, Inqe took off, and headed for his nest.

  Chapter 12

  Nia stood on the balcony of her flat, watc
hing the sun rise over the Indian Ocean. It was a beautiful morning. Banger was on his back, snoring. She would have to wake him soon.

  The sheet was half covering him, his smooth chest bare, marred only by the bruise, the skin turning gold in the first rays of light. He was built like a god but had the face of a boy.

  The kettle started boiling so she went inside and poured herself coffee, black and instant. She came from a wealthy family, but prided herself on not depending on them – the beachside apartment was one privilege she was willing to bear, though. Taking her mug she went back to the balcony and sat down on one of the chairs, the bare metal cold on her thighs under one of Banger’s T-shirts. It smelled of him, and she liked that.

  Nia held the cup in her two hands, blew on the coffee and took a sip. She was restless. She stood again and went back to the bedroom, where she looked down at Banger. He really was beautiful. Perhaps sensing her there, he blinked a couple of times, then focused on her and smiled. He looked over at the digital clock on the bedside table. ‘Come back to bed, we’ve still got half an hour before we have to get up.’

  ‘And good morning to you, too.’ She sipped some more coffee. ‘You’ve got a one-track mind.’

  He grinned, then gave that dirty little sneer that she usually liked so much. ‘You weren’t complaining last night.’ He ran a hand through his thick hair. ‘That was wild.’

  The image of the man Banger had shot, his face in death, her feeling of terror, suddenly flooded her mind again. The coffee cup began to shake in her hand, and when she saw the brown droplets staining the pure white duvet she felt the tears well up in her again. She shut her eyes tightly to try and force away the images of the dead taxi driver, the wounded policeman, the boy with the AK-47. Banger had saved her life.

  He took the cup from her and set it down on the side table. She kept her eyes closed, just wanting to forget again. She felt his arms around her as he rose up on his knees on the mattress and enfolded her. She melted into his naked body and buried her face in the crook of his neck. His big arms were squeezing her and his lips were kissing the tears from her eyes. ‘It’s OK, babes. I’m here. I’m sorry.’

  Shit happens, she told herself as she let him draw her down with him back to the warmth of the bed, as his tongue probed her mouth, as his hands moved down her body.

  Banger rolled on top of her, his hand under the T-shirt, feeling for her breast. She had to leave to go to work soon, but his touch was dispelling the horrific images.

  She felt her body start to respond to him and shifted in the bed, opening herself to him again. He brushed against her thigh and she felt him, ready for action as always; it aroused her further. Nia reached for him and closed her hand around him. He gave a small moan and she liked how that made her feel.

  Her phone rang.

  ‘Leave it,’ Banger mumbled into the skin of her inner thigh; he had already made his way down over her body.

  ‘Could be work,’ she said.

  ‘If it’s a call-out they would have rung me first.’

  It was too late. The whistling birdcall of her phone, a woodland kingfisher, had broken the moment. ‘It might be about yesterday.’

  He slapped the bed sheet with a palm. ‘Leave it.’

  Don’t tell me what to do, she thought. Nia pushed Banger off her and he rolled onto his back, letting out an exasperated sigh. She didn’t recognise the number, but answered it.

  ‘Howzit,’ said the man’s voice on the other end of the line. ‘It’s Mike.’

  ‘Mike?’ It took her a moment to recognise him. ‘Oh, vulture Mike.’

  ‘Yes, vulture Mike. Sorry to call so early. Can you talk?’ Nia glanced at Angus, who raised an eyebrow. She waved dismissively, got up, and went back out onto the balcony. The sun was warm on her face. ‘Sure.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about those kids, on the run.’

  ‘So have I. Is there anything in the paper today?’

  ‘No, the Mercury’s all about the bomb; same with radio and TV. There’s nothing about the hijacking or the missing baby. I spoke to Lindiwe, the policewoman on the scene, and she’s going to try to track down the mother today, but the hijacking happened a long way out of her jurisdiction, and apparently the woman lived in Hillcrest.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So, it’s going to be one policewoman and her partner trying to work a case that should be assigned a task force of detectives. The mother of the child hasn’t called the police at all, as far as Lindiwe’s been able to ascertain, but things are crazy in Durban right now.’

  Nia shared Mike’s concerns. She’d spoken to John on her flight back the previous evening and had him call the tracking company control room and ask them for more information or contact details for the woman. The message had come back, via John, that the company had repeatedly tried to call the woman, but there had been no answer.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked him.

  ‘Lindiwe’s going to try and get down to Hillcrest today to check the woman’s house; see if she’s there or if there’s any other way to contact her. It’ll take her a few hours to get here, but I just got a call from a friend of mine at the vehicle licensing office in Durban. He ran the woman’s plate, from the Fortuner.’

  ‘That’s illegal,’ Nia said.

  ‘He owed me a favour.’

  ‘What are you, a vulture researcher or some sort of private investigator?’

  He ignored the question. ‘She lives in Hillcrest, not far from where I am. I’m going to her place now, to see if she’s there, maybe save Lindiwe some time.’

  ‘Does your policewoman know what you’re up to?’

  ‘No, and if she did, she’d tell me I have no authority to be there, which is why I’m not telling her.’

  Nia went back into the bedroom and picked up her coffee, then returned to the balcony again. ‘So why are you telling me?’

  ‘So someone knows where I’ve gone. You saw what went down yesterday. There were people there prepared to kill to get to that car, or what was in it. If something happens to me, if you don’t hear from me by, say, ten, do me a favour please and call Lindiwe. I’ll SMS you her number.’

  Nia felt uncomfortable. She was worried about the missing child, and the mother who seemed to have disappeared, but she didn’t like the way Mike was drawing her into his shady unauthorised investigation. ‘What else?’

  ‘What do you mean, “what else”?’ he asked.

  ‘You must have other friends you can call to let your cop friend know if you disappear, so why else did you call me?’

  ‘You have a helicopter. We need to start searching for those kids and I’m worried it will take the police too long to get their arses into gear. Lindiwe Khumalo is a straight shooter but the whole police service seems to be fixated on the explosion in Durban.’

  Nia scoffed. ‘Hey, mister, for a start it’s not my helicopter; it belongs to Coastal Choppers, and they’re not about to let me go off on some wild goose chase after what happened yesterday. Do you have any idea how much it costs to keep a chopper in the air, let alone search an entire national park? Also, there’s the small matter of the law that bans flying over parks – they’re controlled airspace.’

  She remembered the look of him, the khaki bush shirt with the frayed collar, the old veldskoen bush shoes that had clearly been restitched, the gaiters and faded shorts, the battered older model Land Rover. ‘We’re talking thousands of rand per hour to charter a chopper from us. Plus, like I said, I’m not allowed to take joy flights over Hluhluwe–iMfolozi.’

  ‘I know the parks people and the ZAP-Wing guys who fly anti-poaching patrols over the park. I’ll get a clearance; I’ll say I’m looking for the guys who poisoned all the vultures yesterday.’

  ‘Then why not fly with the ZAP-Wing guys?’

  ‘Because you know, and I know, that I’m not actually loo
king for poachers. Plus, if they spot a kid with an AK-47 they’re going to scramble their Rhino Reaction Force, and before you know it Themba will be locked up in prison. No matter what he did or didn’t do, it’s an offence for him to be in the national park, and carrying a weapon.’

  Patience was not one of Nia’s virtues. Her anger thermostat shot to near boiling. ‘For goodness sake, aren’t you being naive? Don’t you think that boy with the gun, your friend Themba, could be part of the theft?’

  ‘You’re jumping to conclusions.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said loudly into the phone, ‘you’re jumping to a conclusion that this kid is actually some poor misunderstood youth instead of a car thief and a kidnapper.’

  ‘Calm down.’

  ‘Don’t you tell me to calm down! Why are you doing this, Mike Dunn? We’re all worried about the baby but why are you on some one-man mission to look after a possibly delinquent teenager?’

  ‘It’s complicated.’

  ‘That’s it? You want me to go to my boss with “it’s complicated”? You said yourself the policewoman in charge is competent. Why go to all this trouble for the boy? What does he mean to you?’

  He drew a long breath, audibly. ‘I’ll tell you as soon as I get a chance. Just let me say I can’t see another sixteen or seventeen-year-old kid gunned down by mistake. Themba’s on the run in the bush because I taught him to survive there. He’s relying on me. I need to find him and I need your help to do that.’

  Banger walked out onto the balcony, a pair of running shorts barely covering his erection. He held up his hands and mouthed ‘what’s up’? Again she waved him off and he went inside to the bathroom.

  Nia felt like she was being backed into a corner, but she was worried about the missing baby and schoolgirl, even if the jury was out on the teenage boy. ‘All right. The truth is my boss is overseas. I’ll fly a search for the cops, and if I don’t hear from you by ten I’ll call in the cavalry.’