Zambezi Seduction

by Tamara Cape

  The South African dragged his eyes away from the elephant for a second.

  “You’re very well informed.”

  Kerry smiled. “There was an article in National Geographic on inbreeding among lions in Ngorongoro.” She snapped a couple more pictures. “The girls at work will love these.”

  Chad’s face took on an amused look. “The shape of the penis, by the way, is normal. The upward curve at the end is necessary for it to reach the female’s opening, which is forward of the hind legs.”

  Kerry thought for a moment. “And her teats?”

  “Between the front legs.”

  “Mmm, interesting animal, the elephant.”

  “My favourite.”

  “You get no idea from TV films how big they really are.”

  The bull elephant was a magnificent looking animal – twelve feet tall at the shoulder and weighing several tonnes. His huge ears flapped slowly and his trunk moved about testing the breeze. He had average-sized tusks, one pointed lower than the other. Kerry knew there were few big tuskers left in Africa. Chad had mentioned that South Africa had some of the best. The record pair of tusks, each over eleven and a half feet long, was locked away in the British Museum. What a place Africa must have been before the coming of the gun.

  The bull elephant appeared to have forgotten the cow that shortly before had so obviously inspired his lust. For some minutes only his ears, trunk and eye moved. Kerry and Chad had fallen silent, each willing the great beast to move on. They were too close. The worry was if he charged they would be absolutely helpless – sitting ducks – shackled as they were to the other vehicle and dependent on it for movement.

  Then the great legs moved and the huge elephant completed the crossing of the road – his air domineering, lord over all he surveyed – the rear view reminding Kerry of a grossly obese schoolboy in baggy pants.

  The nervous tension in the car had been almost tangible. The Land-Rover’s engine rose in pitch and the slack cable was taken up.

  “Maybe now he’ll slow –” Chad was saying when Kerry screamed a warning.

  She had been watching the bull, wondering with a woman’s curiosity in matters of love why the female who had roused his desire had deserted him, and seen him, at the moment the engine noise had increased, whirl round lightning quick. Now, great legs eating up the ground in that fast shuffling run, he was charging, trunk high, ears wide, immense, grey and unstoppable.

  What followed seemed to happen in slow motion.

  The Matabele recovered from the shock and pulled the stock of the rifle to his shoulder. To Kerry, who knew nothing about guns, the old bolt-action rifle didn’t look enough gun to stop a charging elephant. The ground seemed to shake as with each passing millisecond the enraged elephant closed, growing in enormity as it came.

  At some point it dawned on Kerry that this was no mock charge. Why were they stopped? The driver seemed paralysed, shocked out of his wits. The same thought troubled Chad.

  “Christ’s sake, man,” he yelled. “Move!”

  A shot rang out.

  The elephant stumbled but did not go down. It slammed into the side of the Land-Rover as the black warden worked the bolt of the rifle.

  He never got to fire a second shot.

  The elephant’s trunk whipped out. It lifted him as easily as a child lifts a doll, holding him struggling, helpless, before slamming him to the ground. The wounded beast stood swaying; then its front legs gave and it collapsed, shunting the Land-Rover sideways.

  Kerry had difficulty believing what she had seen. Chad reacted quickly.

  “Stay inside,” he shouted.

  He scrambled out of the car and cautiously inspected the fallen elephant, now reduced to a dusty grey mound of flesh. Kerry saw the driver emerging white-faced from the Land-Rover. She saw Chad shake his head which told her there was no hope. She watched him scan the bush. The other elephants were distant shadows in the baking hot Mopani woodland. They would return to investigate. Elephants did that: tried to help their sick or wounded regain their feet, touch and sniff at their dead until fully satisfied they would never rise again.

  ***

  The rifle lay where it had fallen. Chad picked it up and checked it over. Standing close, he aimed the rifle at a point behind the elephant’s ear and pulled the trigger.

  Of the two men, it should have been the surviving warden who took charge. But until Chad’s shot he had looked lost, as if his logic and power of thought had deserted him. Now partly revived, he walked forward on unsteady legs to view the gory scene.

  Chad felt empty inside. “You’re the one in big trouble now,” he said.

  “An accident . . .”

  “The authorities can decide on that. They will be informed of your speed.”

  “Speed? What do you –”

  “Come on!” Chad exploded, venting his pent up anger. “Twice the park’s speed limit. How do you think it was for us, having to eat your dust for miles?”

  The warden’s look of defiance and hostility dissolved and was replaced by an empty blankness.

  “I’m not going to stand here arguing.”

  “Go to camp and report this,” Chad told him. “Leave me a few rounds in case the herd returns. I’ll warn off any curious motorists.”

  The warden shook his head. “I’ll radio in, get some people out.” Authority was back in his voice.

  An uneasy truce prevailed until the first vehicle, another Land-Rover, arrived. Soon the scene was full of park rangers, all wanting to know what had happened.

  Kerry and Chad got away eventually, towed behind the first vehicle returning to Main Camp. As they began to move, the South African pointed upwards.

  Kerry saw the specks in the sky, circling patiently.

  “Vultures. As the adventure began, so it ends,” she said sadly.

  TEN

  At reception Chad picked up the key to their lodge and asked that word be sent to the duty mechanic to look at the Fiat as a matter of urgency.

  While he unloaded the car, Kerry could do little more than sit staring out the window. Where he found the reserves of energy, she didn’t know.

  Africa had lost its magic.

  She could not rid her mind of the sight of the two bodies on the road. The warden had been a good, brave man. What of his widow and children? Would they be forced to move? Would there be a pension? The elephant too had been brave. Driven by the hormonal changes in his body, he had done what his kind had done down through the millennia when they felt threatened.

  Chad went off to give a statement to the chief warden.

  An hour later he returned to find her still in the same position.

  “It’s all been a big shock,” he said, rather stating the obvious. He had brought back cold beers from the camp store. He snapped open a can and offered it to Kerry.

  “Not for me, thanks.” Kerry could hardly believe her own words. Before the tragedy the thought of a cold beer had been a driving force that had kept her going.

  Chad looked at her for a long moment. “You blame me, don’t you?” he said flatly.

  Kerry met his gaze. “That silly chase after the zebras and . . . the breakdown. If it hadn’t been for that, the warden would be alive.”

  “Kerry –”

  “I’m sorry,” she fought to control her voice, knowing she was close to sobbing. “I’ve tried to move on, clear my head of it, but I can’t.”

  The South African scratched at his unshaven chin.

  “You’re upset – it’s natural. I’m upset. Everyone’s upset. In the store just now they knew. You’re the guy had the breakdown, they said. Sipho was a good man. I got nothing but cold angry looks.”

  Chad broke off and took another swig of lager. Again he offered her one. This time she was unable to resist. Her throat was so parched, talking was difficult.

  “The zebra chase was idiotic,” Chad resumed. “Childish – and that’s not like me. I’ve always been one for playing it safe. I was doing it for you
, Kerry. We’d just seen lions. Grandstand view. We were on a roll – I wanted to show you more. The breakdown . . . you can never plan for something like that. Yes, you can blame me for it. But that didn’t kill him. It wasn’t me who drove slap bang into the middle of a herd of bloody elephants.”

  Kerry tried to pull herself together. “Is the holiday finished now?”

  Chad gave her a sharp look. “No way! We haven’t done what we came to do. If I have to rail the car back to Jo’burg, we’ll hire one and carry on.”

  The chief mechanic arrived. He was pessimistic about the chances of obtaining spares locally. Chad was not surprised. The car was an unusual model: there were few on the roads in South Africa, never mind here in rural Zimbabwe.

  A lift was arranged in a park’s vehicle. It dropped Chad and Kerry at the Safari Lodge, an upmarket hotel outside the reserve’s boundary. Chad hired a small Datsun at the Hertz desk. Next stop was a garage in Hwange recommended by the mechanic.

  While Chad talked to the owner, Kerry remained in the rented Datsun. To her horror, she felt unwell. She had said nothing to Chad – not wanting to add to his woes. What had started as a headache and flushes – heat exhaustion, she’d assumed – had intensified to its present level where the pain throbbed mercilessly inside her head and her body was consumed by fever. As if that wasn’t enough, her right leg near the ankle was inflamed and itchy. In her misery she was unable to stop rubbing and scratching it.

  When Chad returned he was smiling. It seemed an age since Kerry had last seen him happy.

  “Good news. My car may be an unusual model, but its engine is similar to one used in the Fiat saloon car range. We phoned a spares store in Bulawayo. They have the timing belt. They’re sending one up by road. There’s still surgery to be done to the engine, but he reckons they can handle it here. Let’s hold thumbs on that.”

  Kerry knew that holding thumbs was the South African equivalent of crossing fingers. She wanted to share in his relief, but she could not. She could no longer hide her condition from him.

  He listened, looking at her with concern.

  Kerry slumped forward, head in hands.

  ***

  The young doctor in the hospital’s crowded casualty room stuck a thermometer under her tongue and examined her leg.

  “Tick-bite fever, almost certainly,” he pronounced. “We’ll keep you in, run some blood tests, put you on a course of antibiotics.”

  “How long,” Kerry asked. She had only vaguely heard of the condition and had no idea of the recovery period.

  “You should be on your feet again in a few days,” the doctor said. “But we’ve got to get that fever under control.”

  Kerry could remember little of the drive to the hospital. She remembered Chad had run back into the garage to get directions. She had protested mildly during the drive, but he had overruled her saying, “Best let the experts take a look.”

  Now she was thankful for his quick thinking. She was in the best possible place; and the doctor was the type who inspired confidence.

  “Lucky I took out insurance against illness and medical care,” she managed as they waited for her to be taken to the ward. “I’m thankful you brought me straight here. I feel awful.”

  “I have to return to the game reserve,” Chad said. “Find someone to tow the car out to the garage. Don’t worry; they’ll look after you here. I’ll be back this evening.” He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze in farewell.

  Kerry thought of asking him to bring her makeup case and perhaps her pink nightie. But it would embarrass them both to have him go through her things.

  She had no way of knowing that three days would elapse before she saw Chad again, or how her feelings for him would alter dramatically in the interval.

  ELEVEN

  A charming black nurse took a blood sample, started Kerry on the antibiotic treatment and smothered her ankle with calamine lotion. The effect on Kerry’s leg was immediate – it cooled and the itchy feeling subsided.

  The white sheets felt wonderful; so crisp and cool against her burning body.

  Despite the pounding in her head, she tried to think. She knew she was seriously ill; equally she knew she was in the best place to fight the fever. She would receive proper care and follow the doctor’s instructions. She willed herself to get better soon. The holiday was far from over. She hated the thought of missing even one day. Most of all she hated the thought of burdening Chad. From the start she had set out to match his schedule, work to his pace without complaint and show that his faith in an untried Englishwoman was justified.

  She had succeeded, until this cruel blow.

  Kerry set her mind to a swift recovery. She felt a great tiredness overwhelm her. She settled back in the bed and shut her eyes.

  ***

  When she woke it was light outside the window. She had vague memories of being wakened and given further antibiotics. Perhaps the nurse had also given her something to prolong her sleep. She quickly assessed her condition. Her ankle felt a lot better – the calamine had worked a treat. Her headache was down to more manageable proportions. Fever still racked her body. All in all, a slight improvement.

  Chad had promised to come last night. She had no recollection of his visit – she must have slept through it. He was sure to drop in again this morning.

  When the same nurse as yesterday came to give her more antibiotics, Kerry asked about Chad.

  “He came,” the nurse smiled. “I was off duty, but I heard he left a letter for you in the small cupboard.”

  “A letter?”

  “Let me get it for you.”

  Kerry was worried. She could think of only two possible reasons for a letter: either he had encountered a problem over the warden’s death, or there had been a delay in the car part arriving from Bulawayo and he was trying to speed things up.

  It was not a letter; merely a note on a single sheet of paper folded once, no envelope. She tried to anticipate its contents. Perhaps a joke to cheer her up. There was indeed news of the car. It was now at the garage. The part should arrive tomorrow – today, Kerry figured – and they should have the car back in a couple of days. She read the next paragraph . . . the paper dropped from her hand.

  He was leaving. Deserting her – just when she needed him so badly.

  With trembling fingers she snatched at the paper again. There had been a message from Anna Grobler. The representative of an important overseas client was in South Africa and insisted on seeing Chad. After careful consideration – of Kerry’s need for rest, his car being off the road, plus the client’s high status – Chad had reluctantly decided to do what he had never done before: break off a field-trip and return home. He would drive the hire car to Bulawayo and catch the first flight to Jo’burg. He might be away a couple of days. He would explain everything whenever . . .

  That was it. No apology. No cheery words to a sick companion. This from a man who three nights into their trip had begged her to sleep with him. Damn him! If his aim was to raise her spirits he had bombed.

  An hour later Kerry was still furious. She remembered Anna Grobler saying that with Chad work came first. Boy, was he showing it. But, could there be another explanation? Odd that this should have happened just when Kerry was incapacitated. Had she ever really believed there was nothing between Chad and the Afrikaner beauty? All that innocent talk of virginity from him, and platonic friendship from her had not convinced Kerry. It could have been a smokescreen. With Kerry sidelined for several days and the car out of action, what better than a cosy little interlude? Having been spurned by one woman, was Chad now locked in the arms of another?

  Yes! She was convinced of it. The note was a concoction of lies. She flung it from the bed in a fury.

  The day wore on. The doctor came: he said she was progressing well; her temperature was down; they were confident she was over the worst. Kerry was not so sure. She tossed and turned, still in the fever’s grip. It was her luck to have caught it during the hottest month of t
he year. The heat was stifling. She perspired; the sheets no longer felt cool and crisp.

  As her discomfort increased, so did her black mood.

  When the nurse returned, Kerry issued her instructions.

  “If Mr Lindsay visits tonight, please inform him that I don’t want to see him.”

  The nurse’s dark face could not mask her surprise.

  “That nice gentleman who brought you in? But why? What shall I tell him?”

  “I won’t discuss it. Tell him I’m too sick to see anyone . . . Tell him anything you like.”

  It displeased Kerry to act so high and mighty. It was totally out of character. The nurse had a pleasant manner and was efficient in her work. She spoke excellent English. Kerry would have liked to talk to her, learn more about her country. But she was too ill for the niceties of conversation, too consumed by rage to be civil.

  Throughout the afternoon Kerry had periods of dozing and other times of restlessness as her body fought the fever. Her mind was in turmoil. She became convinced Chad had abandoned her and a message would arrive informing her that he would not be returning. The strain left her exhausted. She realized she was still far from well.

  ***

  The following morning dragged by. Just after midday raised voices in the corridor gave notice of his approach. Kerry heard him bellow, “I don’t care what she said. I’m not leaving until I’ve seen her.”

  He marched into the room – the picture of defiance, tall and strong, clutching a bunch of flowers in one hand and various bags in the other. In his wake trailed a nurse, helpless and angry at having her authority ignored. Chad’s face was set in a tense smile.

  “Kerry, how are you? I got some crazy message that you didn’t want to see me.”

  The nurse stepped forward; her face reflected the confusion she was feeling.

  “Madam, do you want me to call security?”

  Throughout the morning Kerry had worked on hardening her determination to have nothing more to do with the man she considered a liar and a cheat. Now, on seeing him again, it surprised and annoyed her to sense her breathing quicken and to feel an inner glow. But she refused to buckle, condone what he had done. He had taken advantage of a sick woman and acted despicably.