‘Hold still,’ said Connor, gently dabbing at the cut on her quivering lip.
As Amber sought a response from him, her eyes welled up and a tear rolled down her cheek, washing a thin line through the blood and dirt smearing her skin. Connor wiped it away. In truth, he thought it was highly unlikely that Laurent or Cerise had survived the ambush. Their Land Rover was a total wreck and if by some miracle they’d escaped the crash unhurt, then the gunmen would have shot them down, just like they had the ranger. But Connor also realized that, if Amber and Henri were to survive this ordeal, they needed to hold on to the hope that their parents were still alive.
‘I didn’t see their bodies. So there’s a good chance they escaped like us.’
‘Really?’ said Amber, brightening. Connor could tell she was desperate to believe him.
‘The crucial thing now is for us to get to the lodge and contact Buddyguard.’
‘But won’t this Black Mamba head to the lodge too?’ said Henri, who’d been listening the whole time, his breathing having finally returned to normal.
‘That’s a risk we’ll have to take. The lodge is the only property for a hundred miles and has the only means of communication … unless either of you have a mobile phone?’ he added hopefully.
Henri shook his head. ‘Not allowed one.’
‘Sorry,’ said Amber with a regretful smile. ‘Left mine in the bedroom.’
‘Then we’ve no other option.’
Connor packed away the first-aid kit and shouldered his Go-bag.
‘But how do we even know which direction to go in?’ asked Amber, waving her hand round the shadowy jungle.
Connor pivoted on the spot, trying to get his bearings. There were no obvious paths, no visible landmarks, and the sun was obscured by the canopy above. And they couldn’t retrace their steps for fear of encountering the gunmen. He glanced at his watch. Sunset was less than an hour off. It would be dark soon and then they’d have absolutely no chance of finding their way.
Conscious that both Amber and Henri were waiting for him to make a decision, relying on him to take command, he was about to make a wild guess when he looked again at the G-Shock Rangeman watch that Charley and Amir had given him for his birthday. It barely had a scratch on it. Amir was right; the watch was indestructible. He silently thanked them for their inspired gift as he rotated the bezel and switched to compass mode.
‘From what I remember, the viewpoint lay north-east of the lodge and we’ve travelled more or less west,’ he explained to Amber and Henri. ‘So, all being well, we just follow the compass south and we’ll find the lodge.’
‘Are you sure we’re going the right way?’ asked Amber, panting from the exertion of their trek.
The jungle had thickened and progress had become painfully slow as they tramped through dense undergrowth and clambered over rotting tree trunks. Mosquitoes buzzed in their ears, a constant irritation despite having doused themselves with insect repellent. In the treetops, monkeys chattered unseen and leapt from branch to branch, sending leaves falling like rain on to the earth below.
Connor wiped the perspiration from his brow and checked his compass again. It was proving impossible to keep to a straight bearing as trees, ferns and vines choked the jungle floor, forcing them to constantly alter course.
‘We need to head to higher ground,’ he said. ‘Work out where we are.’
Coming across an animal trail, he led them upslope. The light was fading fast and the jungle was being swallowed by shadows. Soon they wouldn’t be able to see each other, let alone their pursuers. Henri, his eyes darting towards any strange sound or movement, was becoming more and more scared, and he didn’t protest when his sister took his hand. The terrain beneath their feet grew rockier as they ascended towards a small ridge, the trees thinning as they climbed. Suddenly, as if emerging from a deep dive, the canopy parted to reveal an indigo-blue sky, the first stars of night blinking in the heavens.
Standing atop the rocky ridge, Connor was able to look out across part of the Ruvubu Valley. Using his binoculars, he tried to spot any familiar landmarks. The sun, a ball of fiery orange, was burning low on the horizon, giving him true west. To the south, the Ruvubu River wound lazily through the valley basin. And, off to the east, he could make out the craggy peak of Dead Man’s Hill. The dried-out riverbed where the ambush had taken place was hidden from view by the trees, but Connor was able to work out the lodge’s rough direction from a single dark line that cut across the savannah. With so few roads, the main dirt track stood out like a scar on the landscape.
‘We’re a little off course,’ he admitted, directing their gaze to a midpoint in the distance. ‘That’s where the lodge is. Somewhere on the other side of that ridge.’
Amber squinted into the twilight. ‘How far do you think?’
‘At this pace, half a day’s walk, I guess, maybe more.’
Amber glanced at her brother, who was wheezing again from the climb. ‘We need to rest,’ she said.
Connor looked at both Henri and Amber. They were all tired, hungry, hot and thirsty. They’d been running on adrenalin and shock for the past hour. Now that was beginning to fade, their bodies were crashing. He nodded in agreement. Finding a patch of clear ground, they sat down and Connor retrieved the water bottle from his Go-bag. Barely a couple of gulps remained. He offered the bottle to Amber, who let her brother drink first. Then, after taking a sip herself, she handed it back.
Despite his own thirst, Connor waved the bottle away. ‘You have it.’
‘No,’ insisted Amber, forcing it into his hand. ‘No heroics. You need it as much as we do.’
Connor drank the last dregs, the warm water wetting his mouth but doing little more. Only now did it hit him that they were in a survival situation.
Running from the gunmen was just the start of their problems. The main threat to their lives came from being in the wilds of Africa without food, water or weapons.
Colonel Black’s departing words rang in his ears: It’s always best to be prepared for the worst, especially in Africa. In light of their current situation, Connor thought that the colonel had never said a truer word and wished now he’d spent more time studying the SAS survival handbook he’d been given.
Recalling that the right equipment could make the difference between life and death, Connor emptied his Go-bag and took stock of their resources. He’d lost the most crucial item – his smartphone – back at the crash site, but he did have a small first-aid kit, empty water bottle, binoculars, malaria tablets, sun lotion, insect repellent, a Maglite, a single energy bar, sunglasses with night-vision capability and, still attached to his belt, his father’s knife.
‘What’s that?’ asked Henri, pointing to a blue tube in the bottom of the bag.
Connor fished it out and smiled, glad of Bugsy’s foresight. ‘A Lifestraw,’ he explained. ‘We just need to find water and we can all drink safely.’
With one key survival factor half-solved, Connor asked, ‘What do you have in your pockets?’
Amber produced a cherry-flavoured lip balm, a packet of tissues and a hairband. Henri had a couple of sweets and his inhaler. Hiding his disappointment at such meagre offerings, Connor opened the energy bar and divided it up between the three of them. ‘Not much of a dinner, I’m afraid, but it’s better than nothing.’
The oat bar was gone in one bite, only serving to remind them of how hungry they actually were.
‘Is this edible?’ Connor asked, half-joking, as he picked up the lip balm.
‘Tastes nice and keeps your lips soft,’ replied Amber, ‘but not an ideal dessert.’
Henri offered his two sweets to Connor and his sister.
‘Save them,’ said Connor, smiling at his generosity. ‘We’ll be needing them for breakfast.’
Dusk was falling fast. Even with his night-vision sunglasses and a small torch, Connor knew that it would be foolish to negotiate the jungle at night.
‘We need to find a safe place to sleep,’ h
e said, repacking everything into his Go-bag.
‘We’re not going back to the lodge?’ Henri asked with an anxious glance at the gloomy jungle surrounding them.
Connor shook his head. ‘Too dangerous. It’s best we hole up somewhere until daw–’
A rustle in the bushes alerted Connor to something approaching. He put a finger to his lips, urging Amber and Henri to remain silent.
The rustling drew closer. To Connor’s ears, it sounded like more than one person, all converging on the ridge. The gunmen had caught up with them fast! But no doubt they had trackers with them.
Looking for a place to hide, he hustled Amber and Henri into a crevice in the rocks. They lay flat, waiting for the gunmen’s approach. Reaching for his belt, Connor unsheathed his father’s knife. While it was no match for an assault rifle, he gained strength and courage from having it in his grasp.
The noise grew louder. Connor could hear Amber’s panicked breathing in his ear and feel Henri’s body trembling at his side. His grip on the knife tightened as a bush only a few metres from them began to shake. Then a snout with two large curved tusks appeared, followed by a large flattened head and a grey bristled body. Snorting, a warthog trotted over the ridge, followed by a litter of young piglets.
Connor relaxed his grip on the knife and slowly let out the breath he’d been holding. The warthog suddenly turned her head in their direction. Sniffing the air, she grunted furiously, flattened her mane of bristles and bolted away, her piglets squealing in terror as they too ran for cover.
Amber laughed, more in relief than anything. ‘I’m glad there’s something in this jungle more scared than us!’ she said.
But, as they crawled out of the crevice, they discovered what the warthog and her piglets had really been running from.
A harsh hissing sound greeted them and Connor’s blood turned to ice in his veins. Slithering over the rock towards them was a long, slender olive-brown snake. Three metres in length and with a body as thick as a man’s wrist, it was the largest snake Connor had ever seen. As it reared up and challenged them with its dark malevolent eyes, Connor’s chest suddenly tightened and he began to fight for breath. The sight of the snake turned his skin clammy and his fingers went numb, until he could barely grip his knife any more.
‘I think we’re in its lair,’ whispered Amber.
The pounding of his heart was so loud in his ears that Connor heard her as if she was in another world. Her voice, distant and ghost-like, drifted through his fearful state. ‘We need to move.’
Hypnotized by the creature swaying before him, his limbs had turned heavy as lead. However much he willed himself, he was rooted to the spot by sheer terror.
Amber eased herself away. Henri went to do the same but, as soon as he moved, the snake hissed sharply in warning. Rising a full metre off the ground, it opened its jaws to reveal a pair of razor-sharp fangs and a jet-black mouth.
Henri froze. ‘A black mamba!’ he gasped.
Connor now recognized the coffin-shaped head that Gunner had described. Believe me, you don’t want to meet one of those in the bush.
Face-to-face with his darkest nightmare, Connor couldn’t have agreed more. He knew from the ranger that the black mamba possessed the most potent snake venom in the world. Unpredictable and highly aggressive, in an attack it would strike multiple times, injecting lethal amounts of poison with every bite. Within minutes, the victim would experience dizziness, sweating, crippling headaches and severe abdominal pain. Their heartbeat would become erratic, leading to violent convulsions and collapse. The whole body would go into shock, inducing vomiting, fever and paralysis of the limbs. Finally, the victim would succumb to respiratory failure or else a heart attack.
A horrific and agonizing death, whichever way it ended.
All this knowledge only served to immobilize Connor further.
The black mamba, its tongue flicking and tasting the air, expanded its narrow hood and hissed aggressively. It made a mock charge and Henri jerked back in panic. The sudden move triggered the black mamba to strike for real.
Time seemed to slow as Connor battled his phobia, struggling to overcome his self-induced paralysis and protect Henri. But all he could do was watch as the snake’s venomous fangs closed in on the boy.
Then a stick came crashing down on to the head of the snake, clubbing it senseless. The stick struck again and again until it snapped with the force of the blows, leaving the coffin-shaped head pulverized on the rock.
Amber stood over the dead and battered snake, her body trembling, her eyes fierce.
‘I don’t know about you two, but I’ve had enough ambushes for one day.’
Connor knelt beside the teepee of sticks, his knife and a flint stone in hand. Feeling as if he was back camping with his father, he struck the edge of the blade against the flint, trying to create a spark and set the small pile of wood shavings alight. He’d had reservations about making a fire. There was a risk that the gunmen would spot the flames in the darkness. But he weighed this against the danger from wild animals and the need for warmth during the chilly night ahead.
They’d found the ideal place to set up camp, a shallow cave a little further down from the ridge, where a stream ran through a gully into a pool before flowing on through the jungle. Connor had made certain that the cave was empty first, throwing in a stone, then checking the entrance for any signs that an animal might be using it as a den. With no obvious remains of food or droppings, the cave appeared uninhabited.
Connor struck the flint harder. Still getting no spark, he persisted, becoming increasingly frustrated and worried he might damage the steel blade. His memory of lighting fires with his father seemed to be a simple matter of a quick strike followed by the whole pyramid of sticks bursting into glorious flame. But so far all he’d managed to do was graze his knuckles and blunt his knife.
After ten minutes of futile striking, he was on the verge of giving up, when a single flicker like a tiny falling star dropped on to the tinder. Connor blew softly, desperately trying to coax the spark into a flame. But the small glow died away rapidly. Tired and hungry, he tossed aside the flint in a fit of frustration.
‘Would this be easier?’ asked Henri.
Glancing over, Connor saw he was holding up a small book of matches.
‘Where did you get those?’ he cried.
Henri offered a sheepish grin. ‘My back pocket.’
‘Why on earth didn’t you give them to me earlier?’ Connor said, shaking his head in disbelief as he grabbed the book from him.
Henri shrugged an apology. ‘I forgot I’d taken them from the lodge’s bar. Besides, you looked like you knew what you were doing.’
‘I don’t have a clue what I’m doing!’ shouted Connor.
Henri wore a wounded look. ‘But you’re our bodyguard …’
Connor took a deep breath, trying to rein in his annoyance. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. That snake freaked me out, that’s all.’
He struck one of the matches and the tinder immediately caught alight. With a few gentle puffs, he coaxed the flames and the teepee of sticks began to crackle and burn. ‘So much for my SAS survival skills,’ he sighed, pocketing the matches and hoping his father wasn’t looking down on him, shaking his head in despair.
At that moment Amber returned with another armful of sticks for the fire. Or at least Connor thought they were sticks at first. Instead she dumped the dead black mamba at his feet. Connor flinched and scrambled away.
‘Dinner,’ Amber explained.
‘You’ve got to be kidding!’ said Connor, eyeing the mamba warily, expecting it to come back to life and strike at any moment.
‘Remember what Gunner said: snake is steak in the bush. And we need to eat.’
Connor felt the ache in his stomach and knew she was right. No wonder he was so short-tempered. Swallowing back his revulsion, he forced himself to crouch beside the black mamba. He reached out a hand to hold the snake’s head in position, but s
huddered at the thought of touching the smooth oily scales of the creature.
‘Sorry, I simply can’t do it,’ he admitted, passing Amber his knife.
‘If it was a spider, I wouldn’t be able to either,’ she replied.
Taking great care not to go anywhere near the fangs, Amber used the blade to cut the snake’s head off. Then, once the fire had settled down, she laid the body on the hot embers. The skin sizzled loudly and soon after the cave filled with the aroma of cooking flesh. Despite his phobia of snakes, Connor’s mouth began to water in anticipation.
Having each drunk from the pool using the Lifestraw, they sat round the fire and waited for their snake dinner to be ready. Night had truly fallen and their shadows played out against the cave wall. Insects whirred and chirped, bats fluttered overhead and unseen creatures leapt from the branches, screeching and hollering. The incessant noise of the jungle was unnerving and the three of them huddled closer to the fire. Somewhere in the darkness they heard a series of low threatening growls, like the sawing of wood.
Amber gazed nervously into the pitch-black. ‘What do you think that is?’ she whispered.
‘Whatever it is,’ Connor replied, ‘it’s a long way from us.’ Or so he hoped.
After half an hour, Amber tested the snake with his knife. ‘I think it’s cooked.’
Pulling the body off the coals, she sliced it open and cut a portion of steaming meat for each of them.
Henri examined his unusual meal with trepidation. ‘Do you think it’s safe to eat?’
‘The poison’s in the head, according to Gunner, so it should be,’ replied Amber, sniffing her piece cautiously.
Hunger overcoming his aversion to snake, Connor took a bite. ‘Tastes like chicken!’ he said in surprise.
The other two tucked in, devouring their meal quickly. Once their bellies were full, exhaustion soon overtook them.
‘I’ll build up the fire,’ said Connor as Amber settled her brother at the back of the cave.
Bodyguard: Ambush (Book 3) Page 13