by T. M. Clark
Chloe could hear the blood as it rushed through her ears. Her heart thumped so loudly she was sure that the whole of Africa could hear it.
‘Stay here, Chloe, don’t move until we tell you it’s safe,’ Nick instructed as he belly-slid to where Enoch was behind Kimberlite.
There was murmuring coming from them, and Enoch called out, ‘Xo, can you get to your rifle?’
‘I have it already, just can’t see them up on that kopje, even with my scope.’
‘Keep it trained up there; don’t let anything get down here alive,’ Enoch said.
‘Khululani?’ Nick called.
Silence.
‘Filipe?’
Silence.
‘They probably don’t want to give away their positions,’ Xo said.
Enoch and Nick got to a crouch and ran together to the closest tree, then they zig-zagged away and didn’t call anymore.
‘Chloe, are you armed?’ Xo asked.
‘Just with my knife. My rifle was on Marin,’ she said, pulling her hunting knife out from its sheath on her belt. The blade was sharp, and although only about six inches long, she was confident in her ability to bring someone down with it if she had to. The thought of her shooting the hunter flashed into her mind, and she pushed it aside.
‘Where’s your 9mm?’ Xo asked.
‘In the pack lying under Diablo,’ she said.
‘You okay there with your dad, or must I come over?’
‘No, keep watching up that kopje.’
‘I’m scanning and the only thing I have seen has been a fat pheasant run away from where I think Filipe has dug down and is waiting.’
‘Can you see Khululani?’
‘No, Nick was right, that man’s a ghost,’ Xo said.
They settled into a silence as they waited for something to happen.
Nothing.
Doves began to coo their love song once again.
‘Don’t move, or I’ll shoot you in the head!’ Filipe shouted.
‘Filipe has him. I can see Filipe and the hunter, he’s putting his rifle down,’ Xo said. ‘There’s Dad and Nick, they are right next to Filipe. I wouldn’t want to be that hunter,’ Xo said.
‘Can you see Khululani?’
‘No.’
‘They’re bringing him down the side of the kopje—none too gently. He’s definitely injured, looks like you did a good job with his shoulder—the blood on his shirt is already old and brown, but there’s new blood there, too. And on his arm as well—eina, that doesn’t look pretty,’ Xo was giving her a running commentary.
‘So, he’s still very much alive?’
‘For sure,’ Xo said.
‘Shit. That means we have to drag him with us until we find some police to hand him over to. We’ll have to feed him and keep him alive. I’m not sure I can do that, Xo, knowing that he killed Ethel. Can I get Diablo up yet?’ Chloe asked.
‘Not until Dad or Nick says it’s safe,’ Xo said.
She watched him continue to follow the progress of them all down the kopje. Before they got much closer, Enoch stopped them. ‘Xo, bring rope so I can tie this bastard up.’
‘Rope’s on Marin,’ Xo said.
‘Here,’ Chloe said, throwing him the lead rein from Diablo.
Xo walked to where the men stood together and handed the rope to Enoch, before he turned away and jogged back to Sirocco.
‘You can get up now, Chloe,’ Enoch called.
‘Up,’ commanded Chloe and Diablo stood. Shaking himself, he waited for her next command. ‘Steady, just stay here, I need something,’ Chloe said as she put her knife between her legs and clamped them tightly together to hold it in place. She fished her 9mm out of the pouch on her dad’s saddle with her right hand.
‘Don’t move, okay, boy,’ she whispered, and using both hands did up the holster buckle once the belt was around her waist, and the weapon rested comfortably on her hip. Only then did she slide her knife away from its resting place and clip it back into its little pouch. ‘Right, let’s find your chair, Dad, or at least let me get you a pillow. Hang in there, I’ll be right back,’ she said as she walked towards Xo. ‘Do you have his chair or anything I can make him a little bit more comfortable with?’
Sirocco was also on his feet, looking around for grass to eat. ‘Sure, here you go,’ Xo said as he unstrapped a bundle of dish towels. ‘These will do for now.’
She took them and walked back to her dad.
Only once she was sure that her father was comfortable, did she then go to where Ethel lay.
Chloe turned Ethel from her side and onto her back. The shot had gone through her temple. There was no exit wound. Chloe used her fingers to close Ethel’s eyelids, then she took two small plasters from her first-aid kit on Diablo and taped them closed. She straightened the crumpled body and crossed her arms over her chest. A tear rolled down her nose and dripped onto Ethel. She wiped at the next one with the back of her hand to try to stop it, but it too fell in silence, splashing onto Ethel’s face.
‘I’m so sorry, Ethel,’ she said, forcing her emotions back deep inside. Ethel’s wasn’t the first dead body she’d seen. She remembered standing in the funeral parlour between her dad and Xo, with Enoch on the other side. She remembered how her mother’s body was cold when she reached into the white satin coffin and touched her hand. Her mother had been refrigerated in the artificial surroundings where she got to view her and say her last goodbyes.
Ethel was still warm.
Her mother had been made up with makeup to look beautiful, forever in a peaceful sleep. An artificial tranquillity created around her, that until now she’d never appreciated.
Ethel had blood splattered on her face, and dirt from where she’d fallen on the ground, and a fly had already smelled the blood and come calling.
Chloe reached forward with her hand and attempted to shoo the fly away as it was joined by another. ‘Xo, throw me another towel,’ she said.
Catching it, she draped it over Ethel’s face to try to at least protect it from the harsh African environment.
‘I need to go fetch Pampero and Marin so we can get your church dress to bury you in,’ she told Ethel quietly. Then taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly and called, ‘Enoch, can I go look for the other horses?’
‘Take Xo with you,’ Enoch said.
‘But he’s looking after Dad.’
‘I’ll watch your father,’ Khululani said from nearby. ‘Go get your horses back.’
She jumped and let out a small involuntary scream. ‘You scared the shit out of me!’ she said, her hand over her heart, staring at him. He was full of leaves and bushes and twigs, and looked like a moving tree. Although he was pulling pieces off already.
‘Chloe?’ Nick called.
‘She’s fine, just got a fright from me,’ Khululani said.
‘Here, take Sirocco and make a temporary hitch for them. You’ll need to do Kimberlite as well,’ Xo said, leaving Khululani holding the lead rein. ‘Welcome back.’
‘Just keep Diablo and Sirocco away from where Dad is lying,’ she said, ‘and thank you, for being here, for catching that murdering bastard.’
‘I am so sorry that he got Ethel,’ Khululani said. ‘And that I was not quick enough to stop his bullet.’
Chloe nodded and Xo took her hand and led her in the direction the horses had gone. ‘Come on, let’s hope those two haven’t ventured too far.’ He slung his rifle over his shoulder and walked ahead.
Chloe had to run a little to keep up. Her back hurt, her head throbbed and she had a constant feeling that she couldn’t breathe properly, but she let him lead her away while pushing her fear and sorrow deep down.
She looked ahead, scanning the bushes for signs of where the horses had run, following their footprints in the grass and the sand. Just because they hadn’t seen any more lions or leopards since that morning, didn’t mean they were not there. She had already lost one precious person today, she really didn’t think that her heart could take
losing her horse to a lion, too.
CHAPTER
32
‘Fucking hell, leave me the fuck alone, you fucking weasel,’ Douglas swore as the small soldier in camo who had crept up on him shoved the barrel into his back again.
How had he not seen that they had another person ghosting them? Protecting their flank and back? A rooky mistake. He knew better. He was trained better, or so he had thought, and yet he had made the mistake anyway.
That black game ranger who was a good tracker—he couldn’t see him in the valley; it had to be him.
His hand throbbed where the splinters from the butt of the gun had penetrated his skin, and probably broken a bone or two. About a millisecond after he had got his shot off and killed the black bitch who pampered the old man as if he was her lover, someone else’s bullet had hit the butt of his rifle, and it had exploded from the impact, sending shrapnel everywhere. In the last few days watching them, watching the way she attended to him had made him want to vomit. Always massaging him, handfeeding him. It was as if the man had no control over himself. She did everything for him.
The white game ranger and a big black man had their arms around Douglas’s biceps, and were frogmarching him down the kopje. The smaller man poked him again with his AK-47. Douglas was sure there was an imprint left of the round barrel in his back.
‘Shut up,’ the big black man said.
‘You going to make me? Hey, you stupid kaffir? Fucking tell me how? You don’t even have the guts to shoot me with no one around as a witness, you yellow-bellied cowards. You’re going to pay for this. You’re all going to pay for this. I’m going to kill every single one of you, and fuck that orange-haired bitch —’
The white game ranger took a step in front of him and stopped them all. ‘Listen to me, you son of a bitch,’ he accented each point with a hard finger poke to Douglas’s hurt shoulder, ensuring that he felt each one, ‘you’re lucky we didn’t just shoot you and leave you in the bush for the scavengers, like you do to the innocent people you kill. You’re lucky we’re more civilised than you, and are taking you to the police. We won’t be goaded into killing you, so you might as well stop your crap now. Stop talking. Stop fighting us, just walk. Be a good prisoner and just cooperate, that way you might get to die of old age in jail.’
Douglas spat in his face.
The game ranger punched him hard in his, and broke his nose.
For a second, the burn between his eyes was worse than that in his shoulder, then he opened his eyes again, and while his vision cleared, he knew they were still dragging him down the side of the small hill, and into their camp.
One thing about distance surveillance was that although you couldn’t hear everything, you could learn how people interacted with each other. Now he was about to get the chance.
He looked forward to ending the lives of all these people. Every one of them deserved to die, and when he got away from them, he was going to give them exactly that.
For Nicole, the client he had failed.
For the 6th, whom he needed to protect.
For himself and his own life. He would relish digging the bullet out of that game ranger’s head when he collected his trophy from him. He might even wear that one around his neck on a chain.
He spat the blood out of his mouth. ‘You are going to fucking pay for that,’ he said. ‘Just wait.’
* * *
‘Come on, Dad, you can sit in the chair and watch us get everything here sorted before we move camp. You’ll be more comfortable and then you can see where we are going to let Ethel rest.’ Chloe waited, lost in her own thoughts. ‘I still can’t believe she’s gone, and that he shot her, but then one thing I’m learning fast is that no one lives forever—and none of us get to choose how we go. At least it was fast. She didn’t suffer,’ she said and then sniffed.
She got her dad lifted up into his chair, but he didn’t seem to be helping much. Then his legs collapsed under him.
She frowned. ‘Okay, let’s give those legs of yours a massage. Think maybe I left you lying down for too long.’
She took off his shoes and started on his feet. One limb at a time. Then her hands moved up higher on his left leg, and stopped. She checked his right leg: there were bumps where it should have been smooth. She tried to push his pants up to have a look, but they were too tight.
‘Enoch, come here,’ Chloe called as she sat with her dad.
‘What’s wrong?’ Enoch said, having jogged over to her.
‘Feel here.’ She took his hand to where she had found the huge bump.
‘Eish. I need to get his pants off. Give us a minute, then come back.’
Chloe walked a little away, watching the men digging Ethel’s grave instead. The ground was rocky, hard. They were having to use a pick to make any sort of dent in it. The hole was taking a long time to progress.
She glanced to where the Caçador Escuro was tied to a Mopani tree. And quickly looked away again. Not trusting herself to confront the man, and what he stood for. Not wanting to look at the person who had killed Ethel and the traveller they had buried at Mapai.
As if realising that he had an audience, the Caçador Escuro started up again like a set of bagpipes. He’d been screaming abuse and swearing constantly, generally carrying on like a lunatic since they had brought him off the kopje.
She looked at the rope that held him. From his neck to his knees was criss-crossed rope binding him, holding him in place.
‘You fucking think you’re so clever, riding a horse, shooting at me. At us. You killed her. What do you think I’m going to tell the police when you take me to them? I’ll tell them you shot her. You. And you shot me, you fucking bitch, look at my shoulder. It’s still bleeding and you don’t even care that I could bleed to death here.’
His venomous spurting carried loud and clear to her.
‘If you even get me that far. I’m going to get out of these ropes and I’m going to slit your throats, all of you, but you, I might have some fun before I kill you. You, I might kill slowly, with a knife —’
‘You can come back, Chloe,’ Enoch called.
‘Chloe, that’s your name. Ch-llllll-oooo-eee. I’m going to kill you, Ch-llllll-oooo-eee, and that boyfriend of yours for breaking my nose. He can watch me fuck you before he dies too.’
Chloe shook her head. She’d had enough of his filth and his obnoxious behaviour. ‘Anyone care if we gag him? Shut him up?’
‘It will be my pleasure,’ Khululani said, walking up beside her. He had one of the dish towels that had been propping up her dad’s head, and he was winding it up.
‘Fitting to clean a dirty pot,’ she said and turned her back as Khululani sorted out the foul-mouthed prisoner.
She went to where Enoch sat next to her dad, now with a towel over his lap, covering up the adult nappy that they had chosen to use for the journey.
‘Keep far away from him, Chloe. That man is demented. And strong. I worry he might get out of his ropes and you are no match for him, even wounded. Do not antagonise him, do not go near him,’ Enoch warned.
‘I hadn’t planned to, he gives me nightmares while I’m awake. There is no soul in him when you look at his eyes, just nothing.’
‘Filipe, Khululani and Nick will take care of him. He is going to make the last few days even more challenging, that is for sure. Keeping us all on our toes all the time.’
‘What’s up with Dad’s legs?’
‘The bruising is really bad, look here,’ Enoch said as he showed Chloe where the straps they had fashioned to keep him in the saddle had worked, but had also caused a problem when Diablo had bolted. On both his calves and on his thighs, there were clear strap marks. And in one place, the skin had begun to rub away, causing what looked like a gravel-rash graze.
‘I don’t like the look of this,’ she said, pointing to one part that was already black and swelling.
‘Me either. Not only will that be hurting Mike, but we will not be able to have him travel on Di
ablo anymore.’
‘We can shift the packs around, and he can double with me. Marin will be able to carry us both; he’s strong,’ Chloe suggested.
‘Marin is carrying a heavy load. It’s too much to shift it all onto old Diablo. We would need to give a little to Pampero, also. You going to be okay with that?’
‘I have to be; what else are we going to do?’
‘We can make a travois to drag behind, but doubling up might be easier. We will have to take turns, because it will tax your arm muscles holding onto him all the time in front of you. We cannot tie him on as that would be too dangerous.’
‘Let’s see how I go. I don’t like the idea of a travois. It could hit a mine buried deep that we don’t notice.’
‘I see your point. Do not worry, Chloe we will get him home,’ Enoch said, reaching out and touching her cheek.
Chloe smiled and put her hand over his. ‘I know. But I also think this is probably hurting him something chronic and once again he can’t tell us. I’ll rub some arnica oil on then bandage it to try to keep the swelling down.’
‘It might help, but I suspect that this is going to look a lot worse in a few hours than it does now,’ Enoch said. ‘The bruising is only just starting to show.’
‘Enoch, he’s going to be okay, isn’t he? This isn’t something worse than just bruises?’
‘Let us hope not. We can only treat it as we see it.’
* * *
Burying a stranger was hard. Burying a friend was agonising.
Chloe had got Ethel’s body ready. She’d found Ethel’s best church clothes, and dressed her for her journey into the afterlife, and then wrapped her in a white sheet as well, since they had no coffin to put her in. But when the time came, watching Ethel be put into the ground, and seeing the men throw sand on her, covering her up deep inside the earth, had Chloe sobbing uncontrollably. Her moment to mourn had arrived, and she cried for her adopted family member. For a black woman who had become such an integral part of her life and filled a void in her heart that she didn’t even know she had.
Nick stepped closer to her and drew her into his arms. He rubbed her back and made comforting noises.