Rebecca Newton and the Sacred Flame

by Mario Routi

  The spaceship reappeared and the doorway opened as the three of them walked to meet Bull at the entrance.

  “Take very good care,” Felicia said, “especially now.”

  “I will. Goodbye for now, dear friends!”

  He waved goodbye as they boarded, before the staircase folded and the door closed behind them.

  3

  One month before present time

  It was dawn and London Heathrow airport was coming to life. Aircraft were being loaded as service vehicles and passenger buses weaved back and forth across the tarmac. Inside the terminal, Rebecca stood with Julius and Adrianna.

  Julius hugged his daughter before spinning her around with her feet on top of his as he had done ever since she could stand, making her laugh.

  An announcement echoed from the speakers: “British Airways flight 317 to Nairobi is now ready for immediate boarding at gate 16B.”

  “That’s your flight!” Julius said, hugging her tightly one last time. “Kiss your grandparents for us.”

  “And tell them we love them,” added Adrianna as she took her turn hugging her daughter goodbye.

  “I wish you both could come with me for my birthday.”

  “Ah, you’re an adult now,” Adrianna teased. “Besides, Grandpa and Grandma are going to want you all to themselves.”

  ***

  At Kenyatta airport, Rebecca pulled her suitcase from the carousel and left through the customs hall. She scanned the crowd of people waiting at arrivals for a few moments before spotting her youthful grandparents, Paul and Martha, waving at her. She ran over, dropping her case and joyfully throwing her arms around each of them in turn.

  “Just look at her, Martha. She’s completely grown up!”

  “And what a beauty!” Martha added, tears of pride glistening in her eyes.

  “Oh, come on!” Rebecca blushed. “It’s only been a few months since you were in London for the New Year.”

  “Oh, but we’ve missed you so much!” Paul laughed.

  “Are you looking forward to the safari?” Martha asked.

  “I can’t wait!” Rebecca grinned, linking her arm through her grandmother’s, as her grandfather took her case from her and led the way to the exit.

  “I can’t wait to introduce you to Thomas,” Paul said. “He knows the land like the back of his hand.”

  “He’s the Masai we told you about,” Martha explained. “A great conservationist.”

  “Just like my lovely grandparents!”

  “Sweet of you to say so,” her grandfather winked, “but yes, we’ve been working with him a lot on the reservation.”

  ***

  The following morning, as she drank her tea and gazed out from the veranda at the view from her grandparents’ house, Rebecca noticed a long-wheelbase Land-Rover approaching through an amber dawn, red dust flying from its wheels. She stood watching as it pulled up outside the house. The driver, a strikingly tall black man, climbed out and stretched languidly in the morning sunshine.

  Paul and Martha had heard the engine and emerged from the house. Like Rebecca, they too were dressed for a safari.

  “Rebecca, meet Thomas!” Paul boomed happily.

  Thomas and Rebecca shook hands shyly, slightly embarrassed by Paul’s ebullient mood.

  “I’m afraid I am the bearer of sad news,” Thomas turned to Paul.

  “What is it?” Paul asked.

  “You remember that two nights ago a poacher shot and killed a lioness and her two cubs? We arrested the man last night, but I checked this morning...”

  Paul former good spirits had vanished. “The Lion? Don’t tell me he’s still there?”

  “He is.”

  “Rebecca,” Paul turned to her, “a male lion is standing guard over his dead mate and cubs.”

  “He hasn’t left, not even for food or water,” Thomas told her, his shyness forgotten. “We’re afraid we’ll lose him, too. It’s heartbreaking to watch.”

  “That’s terrible,” Rebecca said. “So what are we waiting for?”

  “She’s right,” Paul said after a moment’s hesitation. “Let’s go!”

  ***

  The Land-Rover bumped across the broad savannah plain until a thicket of trees and shrubs appeared on the horizon. As they drew closer, Thomas slowed to a stop beside another vehicle from which several wardens were observing the thicket through binoculars.

  Paul also raised his binoculars to his eyes, saying nothing and shaking his head sadly as he passed them to his granddaughter.

  It took Rebecca a few seconds to focus the lenses but then she saw the lion as he circled the corpses of the lioness and cubs which lay at his feet. His agitation was obvious.

  Lowering the binoculars, she looked at her grandfather. Her beautiful eyes were full of tears but her face was determined.

  “Grandpa! I have to go to him. Please let me. He won’t hurt me, I promise.”

  Paul looked at Martha, and she calmly nodded her approval.

  Paul started issuing orders to Thomas and the wardens. “Prepare a canister of water and put some smoked meat into a bag, along with a knife, a small mattock and a shovel. We’ll help Rebecca carry them as far as we can and then it’s up to her to get to the lion.”

  The men said nothing, staring with their mouths open, assuming that Paul had lost his mind. They had seen such things before, when foreigners stayed too long in the sun.

  “What are you saying, Paul?” Thomas stammered. “He’ll eat her alive. No one can get close to a hungry lion. How can you even suggest such a thing? I... I just can’t allow that!”

  “I appreciate your concern, Thomas, but Martha and I know exactly what we’re doing.”

  “But...but that’s crazy! She’s just a girl!”

  “No buts, Thomas. Trust me. Please? Just do as I ask.” Paul spoke quietly and firmly. “Rebecca will go and I believe she’ll succeed.”

  Thomas glanced at the wardens, who shrugged. They started to obey Paul’s instructions very slowly, muttering to one another about what would happen to them if anything went wrong.

  “We’ll be arrested,” one of them said.

  “We’ll have to face a trial,” another added.

  “Her grandmother and I will assume responsibility,” Paul interrupted. “Nobody is going to blame you for anything. But if you’re afraid, leave the provisions with us, climb into the jeeps and go!”

  The men hung their heads to avoid making eye contact and quickened their pace of work, ashamed to have doubted Paul and Martha’s judgement. Without another word, Paul took the canister, slung the bag over his shoulder and started walking with Rebecca towards the thicket. When they were about two hundred yards from the lion, they stopped. Paul put down the can and the bag and slowly retraced his steps to the vehicles, looking back from time to time at his granddaughter as she hitched the bag over her shoulder, picked up the water and slowly but steadily walked onwards.

  She had gone no more than ten steps before the lion spotted her and stopped in his tracks, distracted for a moment from his distress. Instinctively curious, he raised his head and sniffed the air, his ears twitching as he searched for clues as to what was happening in order to assess potential danger.

  Rebecca halted and they stared at each other for a few moments.

  “It’s okay fella...” Rebecca whispered.

  She started to hum a soft tune as she resumed her advance, not stopping again until she was no more than a few feet from where the huge beast stood, unmoving apart from the blinking of his eyes in the sun. She continued to hum the soft, sweet tune to him.

  After what seemed like ages to the watching party behind her, the lion took a deep intake of breath and sat down heavily, causing a cloud of dust to rise around his haunches. Rebecca continued her hu
mming and, with an expulsion of air that sounded like a human moan, the lion lay down on the ground behind the body of the lioness, stretching one foreleg protectively across her and embracing her before settling. For a few minutes, the only movement was the twitching of his muscles as they relaxed.

  Rebecca sat down next to him, reaching out to stroke his mane. The lion sighed.

  “That’s a good boy!” Rebecca said.

  ***

  Watching from inside the Land-Rover, Paul and Martha couldn’t stop themselves from grinning with pride. Thomas shook his head in wonder, his eyes growing ever wider at the scene in front of him.

  “I would not have believed it possible,” he said.

  “Rebecca is very charismatic,” Martha explained. “She has... special gifts.”

  ***

  The lion raised his head every now and then to stare at Rebecca as she continued her stroking and humming. The little bodies of the cubs were tucked under their fallen mother, their heads resting beneath her lifeless belly. Rebecca was shocked to see tears cutting dark rivulets through the dry dust which caked the lion’s face. She knew that most animals never cried, but the pain that this creature was feeling was so intense, he had gone against nature itself.

  The lion’s embrace of his dead mate reminded Rebecca of the film Notre Dame de Paris. In it, some wicked people had killed the hunchback Quasimodo’s beloved, the beautiful gypsy girl Esmeralda, for no reason. They had thrown her body into a basement, where Quasimodo had found her. He, too, had lain beside her, gazing at her tenderly, stroking her hair and weeping. He remained in that embrace, without moving, for days and nights, until he died of thirst, hunger and a broken heart. Many years later, some people happened to go down to the basement and found the two skeletons, still locked together in an embrace.

  She was sure that she was witnessing exactly the same thing happening now. The lion seemed to have chosen to die embracing his beloved lioness and his children rather than to continue living without them.

  She continued stroking the thickly matted hair of his mane and, for a while, he did not react, as if her touch were too light to penetrate his unhappiness, but eventually he turned and looked at her with miserable eyes, as if to ask: “Why are some people so evil? Why have they killed my family? Why?”

  “People are different from you, lions,” Rebecca replied to the unspoken question as she continued to stroke him. “There are good people and there are bad people. But you should know that most people love you, adults as well as children. Images of you can be found in their homes. You appear in paintings, or as statues or ornaments. Children play with toy lions and think you’re wonderful. They sleep with you in their arms. You’re an archetype for us. When we want to praise a man for his strength and courage we compare him to a lion or say that he has the courage of a lion.”

  The lion seemed to be listening to her words. From time to time his tail swished away the clouds of flies that were trying to land on the carcasses, but their numbers were growing too great and soon they would win the battle. As the scorching sun rose higher in the sky, the heat was becoming unbearable. Rebecca lifted her baseball cap in the hope of finding a breeze to cool her head, but replaced it quickly.

  Standing up slowly so as not to startle the lion, she took out her knife and walked to a nearby tree. She sliced off a leafy branch and returned to her seat next to him, using the branch as a swat to help him fight off the swarms for a little longer.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “Don’t tire yourself out. I’ll help you. As I was saying, most people love you. They’ve made many films about you, which millions of people have seen. One has even been made into a theatrical production which plays all over the world. I saw it in London. The story is great - you’d like it if you saw it. I’ll tell it to you.”

  Gently, she laid her head on his shoulder, aware of the rise and fall of his breathing, and began telling him the story of The Lion King, describing each scene in as much detail as she could remember and focusing on the important ideas.

  From time to time she would stop talking and raise her head to look into his eyes and see if he was comfortable. “You see what an amazing story it is?” She said. “Wasn’t I right?”

  By the time she had finished the story, the lion’s breathing had calmed and his tears had dried, leaving the tracks on his cheeks.

  “Now,” she said, her voice firm, as if talking to a sick child, “you must drink some water. I’ll drink some after you.”

  She took off her cap, put some water in it, and brought it close to the lion’s mouth. He did not react and simply stared at the water with dull eyes, making no attempt to lower his head to drink.

  Rebecca tilted the cap and let a few drops trickle onto his closed lips but he merely clamped his mouth more firmly shut and turned his head away in clear refusal. It was as if he was saying: “I don’t want it. Don’t push me. I want to die. What do I have to live for? My mate and my cubs have been killed. I am alone! All alone!”

  Rebecca carefully poured the water back into the canister without drinking a single tempting drop herself, even though she was parched and longed for a sip.

  “All right. Since you don’t want to, we won’t drink,” she said softly. Lying back once more, she rested her head on his shoulder, stroking him tenderly but saying nothing, giving him time to think.

  As night fell and the first stars appeared proudly in the sky, Rebecca started to sing a lullaby, partly to take her mind off her own thirst as well as to soothe the troubled lion.

  ***

  Back at the vehicles the rest of the party had already pitched their tents, firstly to provide at least some protection from the heat of the sun, but also in preparation for eventual rest. It was hard to sleep as they strained their eyes in the dying light, trying to work out whether Rebecca was winning the lion over. When it was no longer possible to see anything, they fell to talking amongst themselves and speculating on what might happen the following day.

  Paul was adamant that no one else must be told what was going on. He didn’t want the media or any other inquisitive people showing up with their prying lenses and loud noises. If the news spread, then questions were bound to be asked and things would become awkward for Rebecca. The very fact that she had got so close to the lion and stayed with him for hours was a story that would attract the interest of the whole world if their attention were drawn to it.

  “She’d be hounded for the rest of her life,” he said. “Please respect her privacy. As long as we’re here, don’t tell anyone what’s going on - and please don’t take any photographs. When this is over, no matter the outcome, only we will know what happened. What concerns us is only the result. If the lion is saved, we’ll have succeeded in our aim and that’s all we’re here for.”

  They all nodded vigorously, proud to be trusted with such a great secret, honoured to be part of something so extraordinary and unsure if anyone would even believe them if they did try to describe what they were seeing with their own eyes.

  ***

  The hours ticked past and Rebecca continued singing. She hoped to lull him into a sleep so that he could forget his unhappiness for at least a few hours, but his eyes never closed. They merely stared out into the darkness, his shoulders occasionally shaking with unbearable sobs. Every so often she would try again to tempt him to drink some water, but each time he ignored her offer and turned away. She didn’t insist, but she didn’t take anything to eat or drink for herself either.

  “If you don’t want to drink,” she said eventually, “won’t you at least get some sleep?”

  The lion did not respond. All around them the noises of the jungle buzzed in a frenzy of unseen activity. Rebecca could hear the hungry grumblings of hyenas, which had doubtless caught the scent of death on the wind and wanted to investigate, held back only by the accompanying smell which told them of the presenc
e of a lion on guard duty. They circled at a respectful distance, following their own survival strategy.

  None of them slept a wink that night. The moment dawn broke, Rebecca’s grandparents grabbed their binoculars and saw Rebecca and the lion still in the same positions.

  Rebecca’s eyes were burning with tiredness and hurt in the bright light of day. It felt like they were filled with grit. She splashed some water on them but it brought no relief. She stood up and stretched her legs but it did little to soothe the aching that had invaded every joint.

  Time seemed to have slowed to a virtual standstill. The heat was made worse by the rich stench that the corpses were beginning to give off, sending tempting signals out to every carrion lover within ten miles.

  Rebecca thought of how much better it would have been if everything had happened a few yards farther on, where the foliage of the trees would have protected them from the worst of the heat.

  She felt ashamed of her own thoughts. “I must be getting ill to be thinking such things,” she said to herself.

  Every hour she tried again to persuade the lion to drink, but still he refused. At one point she took out her handkerchief, dipped it in the water and pressed it against his brow, above his tired, sad eyes. He did not try to resist or pull away, but merely blinked and stared into the distance.

  Rebecca’s lips were as cracked as a dry riverbed. She wanted to tell the lion how thirsty she was, that she had reached the end of her tether, but she forced herself to stay silent. She didn’t want him to think she was using her own suffering to force him into drinking before he was ready.

  As night approached once more, the lion’s weeping seemed to falter, as if he was losing his strength.

  “You must drink, you must eat and sleep. You can’t go on for days without food and especially without water. Do you want us to die together? I’ve brought some meat too. We can share it, mouthful by mouthful. I know you prefer fresh game, but I think you’ll like what I’ve got.”

  She opened her bag and cut off a portion of smoked meat, bringing it close to his mouth.