Seeing the ghost of a smile on Derek’s face, Edward raised his own arms and began to circle around his brother. ‘If you’ve already decided my guilt, then surely, as a gentleman of your word, you will at least inform me of the charge?’
Derek glanced back over his shoulder. ‘I see no gentleman here. Only a wronged man in search of some justice.’
‘And when, if I may enquire, was this injustice committed against you?’
‘Many years ago.’
‘You couldn’t be more precise than that, could you?’
‘It was a Friday night. We were boys. It was raining. We had gloves on. Work it out.’
Edward shrugged, continued to dance, his eyes peering over his knuckles. ‘Remarkably, I still don’t know what you’re on about.’
‘Then allow me to be more explicit. Father Gabriel told me what you did.’
‘What I did? You were the one who did all the punching that night.’
‘You threw the bloody fight! You let me hit you. How the hell could you do that? And how could you keep that from me for all this time? All these years of guilt … for nothing!’
‘Nothing? My face looked like a damn football for a month. I’m lucky that punch didn’t kill me outright!’
Derek darted forward and fired off a jab that glanced off the side of Edward’s shoulder. Edward retaliated with his own punch that caught Derek just below the collarbone. They both winced and then smirked at each other.
And then, without offering another word, they threw their arms around each other.
‘Bastard,’ Derek whispered.
‘You are,’ Edward replied, nodding. ‘But you’re still my brother.’
Derek shook his head, but said nothing in return.
Just as it had been under the dark sun of Delville Wood, there were times when the spaces between the words spoke more than the words themselves.
In the silence, everything was said.
7
As they pulled out of the station and Edward’s battered truck coughed and rumbled to life, Derek rolled down his window. The air was hot and fragrant, like the inside of a barn baking in the sun. A natural wall of trees and thick grass flanked both sides of the gravel road. ‘Is it always this warm?’
‘You have no idea. Wait until the middle of summer. You can cook your food on the rocks.’
‘You know, it’s not at all what I imagined.’
‘What were you expecting?’
‘I’m not sure, just not this. It’s so much more than I thought it would be.’
Edward rolled down his own window and rested the crook of his arm on the rusted doorframe. Sweat dripped from his chin onto the front of his shirt. ‘Food is easy to come by. Winters are a laugh. The country’s surrounded by thousands of miles of beautiful ocean. The soil’s rich and fertile … as are the women. It’s a kind of Eden, actually.’
‘Then how is it that half of Europe isn’t boarding a ship right now?’
‘I don’t know, but this isn’t even the good part. Wait until we get into the bush. At night, when there’s no moon, you can actually see the starlight filtering through the trees like a white powder. When you walk through it you almost feel as though you need to dust your shirt. It’s hard to believe.’
Derek allowed the image into his mind and thought of how he had always assumed that his father had exaggerated his descriptions of Africa. Based on what he had experienced so far, his writing now seemed almost understated.
‘There really is something about this place, Derek. All the things we went through – the fighting, the killing – it’s gone quiet in my mind now. Don’t get me wrong, the memories never leave you completely. Some nights the faces return but, for the most part, they’re at arm’s length. It’ll be the same for you. Take my word for it. The war will become a kind of distant memory. The nightmares will ease.’
‘Wouldn’t that be nice,’ Derek said after a while.
‘It’ll happen. Just give it time.’
Derek nodded, despite his doubts. ‘Speaking about nightmares, do you want to explain that beard of yours?’
Edward tried to suppress a smile. ‘I was waiting for that.’
‘Well? Let’s hear it.’
‘I really can’t explain it. I never would’ve dreamed of growing a beard back home, but out here things are so different. It feels right. I don’t know, I suppose it just fits. And it makes me look distinguished, don’t you think?’
‘No, I don’t think.’
‘Just wait, you’ll do the same. Mark my words. The bush forces you to be practical.’
‘Is that right?’
The truck lost power briefly before jerking and spluttering back to life.
‘And that?’
‘It’s nothing. She just likes to remind me she’s still alive … and in charge.’
‘Where’d you get her? Dig her out of the ground somewhere?’
‘Close. I bought her off a man who had rolled her into a dry river bed. The engine was lying halfway down the embankment. But don’t worry, she’s all better now. Have some faith, little brother.’
Little brother. Although he had been born barely three minutes before him, Edward had always considered himself the older sibling. Even as children, he was the responsible one, the reasonable brother. More even-tempered. Always looking to console, to reconcile. With the job of older brother taken, Derek had assumed the vacant role of younger, slightly delinquent sibling. It all seemed part of nature’s grand design as he quickly became a counterweight to Edward. As they grew up, he was the reckless one. Less reasonable. More prone to outbursts. Rebellious. Overly sensitive at times – unable to guard his emotions. Yet, despite these differences, they shared the same basic beliefs and philosophies on life; they were compelled by the same moral code. The only true difference between them was that Derek lacked an internal filter, a calming inner voice. He was seldom able to consider his emotions before acting on them.
‘Listen,’ Edward called out over the groan of the engine. ‘I’m right about what I said before. How this place blunts away the war. It’s all about time.’
The lines tightened around Derek’s eyes. ‘I don’t think there’s a clock in the world that can make me forget about Delville Wood.’
Edward nursed the truck around a tight bend. ‘Not forget. But the memories will soften.’
Derek waited a moment before responding. ‘How are things for you now? Physically, I mean.’
‘Not bad at all. I just can’t walk very far or carry anything heavy, but it’s hardly an issue. I was the lucky one. I got taken to a hospital bed where I slept eighteen hours a day. You’re the one who had to stay behind.’
‘You’re right. Getting bayoneted and nearly bleeding to death makes you rather fortunate.’
‘You know what I mean. The war ended for me that day.’
Derek stared through the windscreen, his eyes reaching for the horizon. ‘I’m glad you weren’t there at the end. Things got … darker.’
‘It’s difficult to imagine that they could.’
‘That’s what I thought. Until one day I took a man’s life in a small meadow and barely ten minutes later was asleep next to his body.’
‘Derek, listen to me. You’re not a murderer. That’s not who you are. You just did what you had to.’
‘You can dress it up as much as you like, Ed. But war doesn’t absolve us of everything.’
‘So you got used to killing. So what? What choice did you have? What choice did anyone have? The fact that you were able to adapt is the only reason you’re sitting here right now. You’re a survivor, not a murderer. We both are. That’s the truth.’
‘That’s one side of it.’
‘It’s the only side.’
Derek shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with where their conversation was headed. ‘So, Africa will cure me of all of this, will it?’
‘Absolutely,’ Edward replied, his lips growing into a smile. ‘And you know I’m never wrong.’
‘Well, you’re already wrong about one thing.’
‘I am?’ he said, feigning shock. ‘And what’s that?’
‘I’ll never grow a bloody beard,’ Derek insisted, slamming his fist into the dashboard.
They both laughed, truly laughed, and when Edward had recovered sufficiently to speak again, he winked at Derek. ‘Oh, we’ll see about that.’
8
Edward stood on the brakes and the old truck snaked and skidded to a halt in the middle of the road. Plumes of dust rolled across the windscreen.
‘Wh–What?’ Derek said, slurring his way out of a dream. He swallowed hard and squinted into the early-morning sun. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Keep perfectly still,’ Edward whispered, his voice heavy with dread.
Derek craned his neck forward and tried to focus through the wash of bright light. At first he saw only what appeared to be the shadow of something – a tree perhaps. But then the tree moved and, very suddenly, he was wide awake.
The head of an adult elephant filled the windscreen.
‘Stay calm,’ Edward warned. ‘Or they’ll bury us in this truck.’
Derek did as instructed, his eyes drawn to the elephant’s enormous tusks, scarred and elongated shafts that appeared more than capable of impaling him to his seat. The animal’s bloated head hung like a palace chandelier over the bonnet. ‘What should we do?’
‘If we’re going to get out of this, do exactly what I say.’
‘Uh-huh,’ he murmured, trying to measure his breathing. He could feel his pulse hammering in his feet.
‘When I tell you to, slowly open your door and climb out. But don’t make any sudden movements. Nice and easy. Nothing threatening.’
Derek kept his head locked in place, but his eyes snatched at his brother. ‘What? You want me to climb out? And then what? Run?’
‘No. That’s the worst thing you can do. You’ll be overtaken and trampled in seconds. I want you to walk slowly around the elephant,’ he explained, his words barely audible, ‘and then push her out the way.’
‘Push … What? You want me–’
Edward’s face broke into a smile.
‘Bloody hell … you’re playing with me?’
‘Derek,’ he managed, almost crying with laughter, ‘I’d like to introduce you to Mia, probably the most gentle soul in Africa. She’s as close to a tame wild elephant as you’re ever likely to get.’
‘You think that was funny?’
‘I do. I really do.’
Derek tried to return a straight face, but failed. As his pulse slowed, a grin cut across his lips. ‘You bastard.’
The elephant was now calmly fanning herself, completely unperturbed by their presence. She reached over and, with her enormous trunk, severed a branch from a nearby thorn tree.
When Edward had finally finished laughing, he leaned forward and pointed. ‘See the shape of her ears? See how they resemble the outline of Africa?’
Derek, still peeved, nodded reluctantly.
‘It’s one of the reasons the local tribes believe that elephants are their spiritual guardians.’
‘Uh-huh. So what’s her story?’
‘She was badly wounded when we first started tracking her. She’d been shot in the leg and chest.’
‘So you helped nurse her back to health?’
‘It’s not that simple. It’s almost impossible to do anything to help the elephants medically. For one thing, you can’t get close enough to do anything meaningful and, quite frankly, we don’t know enough about their anatomy anyway. Many of them have also learnt to associate humans with poachers, and thus death, which obviously complicates our situation.’
‘So how did you help her?’
‘We didn’t. Not directly at least. The wounds healed on their own. We just made sure the poachers who shot her the first time were never able to finish the job.’
‘So what are you saying? That we’re really just their protectors out here?’
‘More or less. If one of them is badly injured, well, sometimes there’s nothing we can do. If we have to, we’ll bring an end to their suffering. But only as a last resort. All we can really offer is guardianship.’
‘By watching them all day? How effective can that be? How big is our team?’
‘Including you?’
‘No,’ Derek rolled his eyes. ‘Including those three trees behind you.’
Edward ignored the quip, his gaze sobering. ‘There’s only four of us.’
‘Four? That’s it?’
‘There’re a few volunteers who help out when they can, but there are only four of us who are here permanently.’
‘How much of a difference can we possibly make?’
‘That depends.’
‘On what? Surely we can’t just shadow a handful of elephants for months on end? Won’t the poachers focus on the ones we’re not able to watch over?’
‘If we were talking thousands of elephants, you’d be right.’
Derek stared at his brother and frowned. ‘Has the poaching really been that bad? Are you saying there are only a few hundred elephants left?’
‘Picture swarms of violent hunters, shooting and butchering with impunity. Imagine groups of them taking down maybe fifty Greys a day for months on end. They hack out their tusks and leave the animals to rot in the sun. Some of the elephants survive being shot and manage to escape, only to die later from their wounds. After a while the poachers are shooting out more elephants than are being born. Eventually, a line is crossed.’
‘When only a few hundred remain,’ Derek offered. ‘And we’re close to this line now?’
Edward shook his head and used his finger to trace Mia’s outline against the sand-scarred windscreen. ‘The line was stepped over years ago.’
‘I’m not following you. What are you saying?’
Edward seemed reluctant to answer. He withdrew his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his neck. ‘We believe there are less than a hundred elephants left.’
‘In this area?’
Edward smiled, but this time the expression never reached his eyes. ‘In the whole country, as far as we know.’
For a moment Derek seemed incapable of a response. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘I’m afraid living and breathing elephants have no value out here. If we walk away now, they’ll all be gone by the end of the year. Including beautiful Mia here.’
Derek sunk back into his chair, suddenly feeling the weight of their responsibility. How could it be true? Did people not care about what was happening? These were elephants, not vermin, for heaven’s sake. It made no sense to him.
Africa, with all her mystique and beauty, was indeed the Eden Derek had dreamed of as a boy. But, like the biblical garden, it clearly wasn’t without its serpents.
Their camp, peppered on the banks of the picturesque Shingwedzi River in the heart of the eastern Transvaal, consisted of little more than an old army supply tent and two traditional African wattle-and-daub thatch huts built around a large open fireplace. A sizeable paddock ring-fenced half a dozen horses and some livestock. A seemingly endless ocean of trees and bushes curved and stretched out over the horizon. The site was achingly beautiful.
Edward parked the beleaguered truck under the shade of a large fever tree and turned off the engine. Derek took the deep breath of a man who had finally reached the end of a long journey and stretched as though he had been bound in chains for most of it. ‘So this is home?’
‘The best one you’ll ever know,’ Edward said, kicking open his door and stepping out into the heat. As Derek joined him, two figures emerged from the old tent.
‘Wonderful, they’re both here. Let me introduce you,’ Edward said, clapping his hands together.
‘But if they’re here, who’s watching the elephants?’
‘We’ve arranged for a volunteer group to cover us for the next few days, just until you get settled in,’ Edward explained as he limped towards his two friends.
Without exchanging a word, the men shook hands with an affection that suggested they hadn’t seen each other in weeks.
‘Derek, I would like you to meet a rapidly recovering teetotaller and retired British academic, Professor Andrew Matthews. As I explained in my letters, he is not only our generous benefactor but a man whose passion for elephants is as blinding as the sun itself. He is the reason that any of this is even remotely possible.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Derek. We’ve heard much about you, most notably your exploits in the war,’ the Professor said, shaking Derek’s hand with an exuberance that belied his age. His bald head, leathered by years of sun, was a golden brown; he looked almost like a tanned version of Father Gabriel, Derek thought.
‘Andrew’s a real elephant scholar. He’s been working with the Greys for over twenty years.’
‘Good to meet you, Professor,’ Derek replied, dipping his head. ‘Thank you for allowing us to be a part of your efforts here.’
Edward then draped his arm around the other man, a diminutive and almost paper-thin African. It seemed a minor miracle that he could stand at all. ‘This is Maquassi, the best tracker in Africa.’
The man stepped forward and instead of shaking Derek’s hand, clasped his hands together under his chin and stared down at the ground. ‘Welcome in Africa, Master Derek.’
‘Please, Maquaasi, I’m nobody’s master,’ he replied, pleased to have got the man’s name right. ‘It’s very good to meet you. Your land is beautiful.’
Maquaasi nodded and smiled generously, revealing a double row of near-perfect white teeth.
‘Maquaasi is Shangaan,’ Edward elaborated, waiting to see if Derek would make the connection.
‘Shangaan?’ Derek repeated, recalling the tracker from their father’s diary. ‘Like … N’jalabane?’
‘I knew you would remember,’ Edward smiled. ‘They’re a very spiritual and knowledgeable people. We’re really fortunate to have Maquaasi in our team.’
‘Gentlemen, why don’t we continue this conversation in the shade. While we still have skin on our backs,’ the Professor suggested, gesturing to one of the huts.
Journey from Darkness Page 5