by Scott Bergin
"Go catch up with your group." A voice said from behind her. She turned and saw a soldier dressed from head to toe in camouflage. Gabrielle couldn't help but wonder what possessed a soldier to be dressed like that in the middle of a city. She wanted to laugh at him, but she didn't. The rifle slung over his shoulder convinced her it would be a bad idea.
"Can I ask you a couple of questions?" Gabrielle eventually replied.
"We are not allowed to give interviews." The soldier said.
"No." Gabrielle began. "I don't mean an interview. I just want to know what we are allowed to film, and what we are not."
"You cannot film any military installations." The soldier said adamantly.
"Why is that?" Gabrielle asked.
"Because it is illegal." He replied.
"Yes, but why is it illegal?" She persisted.
"To photograph military installations would be treason, and you would be shot on sight for doing so." The soldier replied. Gabrielle realized that he was right. All she would accomplish by taking pictures of the military would be to start a war.
"Is that it?" She asked.
"Is what it?" The soldier replied.
"Is that all we are not allowed to take pictures of?" Gabrielle explained.
"That is all." The soldier said.
"Then why can't we go in the museum?" She asked.
"Oh, that is different." The solider replied.
"What is so different about it?" Gabrielle asked.
"You asked what you can photograph, not where you can go." He replied.
"I don't understand." Gabrielle admitted.
"You cannot go into the museum, because all state buildings are closed. If you go into them, you will be shot for suspected looting." He said tapping his rifle to show her that he was serious.
"So what buildings can we go in?" She asked.
"You can only go into private businesses that are open for business." The soldier replied.
"That's it?" Gabrielle asked.
"Oh, and the concert hall." He added.
"The concert hall?" Gabrielle said with a puzzled look.
"That is where you will all be staying, for health reasons." The soldier explained. "Don't be late."
"Late for what?" Gabrielle asked.
"Everyone has to be in the concert hall at dusk. There is a dusk to dawn curfew. Anyone violating the curfew will be arrested, and if they resist, they will be shot." He explained.
"Thanks." Gabrielle said, as she walked away from him and the museum.
"I would hate to have to shoot a woman as beautiful as you." The soldier said, giving her a little wave.
Gabrielle realized what the results of filming a military installation would be. She would start a war in a country that she would then be stuck in. The filming of the museum was much more interesting. Partly because she knew exactly what had occurred there, and partly because there would be no serious repercussions if she got away with it. The filming of the museum bombing was unlikely to cause a war, or even an international incident. Her only problem was getting into the museum, and past the guards with itchy trigger fingers. Gabrielle walked along a side street, taking a few pictures of the people who had not been evacuated. She now realized what the soldier meant by health reasons. It would take days for the military to clean up all these bodies. Gabrielle pulled her shirt up over her mouth and nose, as she ducked down an alley. The Stench of rotting flesh still made it through, but she was convinced it was helping to keep some of it out. At the far end of the dead end alley there was a pile of bodies. The first and last bodies were soldiers, the ones in the middle were civilians. It looked as if the soldiers were trying to get the people out the back door of one of the buildings when the cloud hit. All of the bodies were badly burned and starting to decompose. Gabrielle got a fantastic idea. She would simply steal the soldier's clothes, sneak past the guards, and go into the museum. Gabrielle walked over to the nearest soldier, he was far too large. His clothes would never fit her. She looked over the rotting mass at the other soldier. He was much thinner, and a lot closer to her height. Slowly, Gabrielle made her way over the top of the decaying crowd. Gabrielle made sure each placement of her hands was on clothing, not flesh. Though, she could still feel the person's flesh sliding off their body, even through the clothing. She made certain not to slip, placing each foot cautiously as well. When she was near enough to the other side, she jumped. Gabrielle began to quickly undress the soldier. The soldier's burns were not limited to his exposed skin. As she pulled off his shirt, she saw the burns covered every inch of his body. She took off his boots and cap, and set them aside. Gabrielle pulled the man's pants off, his legs looked even worse. There were large pieces of skin missing from his legs, and they were burned more than most of his body. The only part of him that looked more disgusting than his legs, was his face. Gabrielle threw the bundled mass of clothing over the pile of bodies, then made her way slowly back over it.
Once she had made it across the bodies again, Gabrielle could barely see the naked guard on the other side of the pile. The man that she had stripped of his clothes, and his dignity. Gabrielle quickly undressed in the alley. The likelihood of someone running into her at that exact moment seemed slim enough. Besides, she could hardly walk out into the street carrying an army uniform. She quickly threw aside her shirt, shoes, and pants. She put on the man's shirt. It was smaller than she thought. This was one of the few times Gabrielle was glad that she had a chest much smaller than most of the women she knew. Not only did she look like a man in the shirt, but she had ample room to hide the camera that hung from her neck. Gabrielle started to slide into the soldier's pants, when she felt something cling to her legs. Quickly, she yanked the pants back off. She looked down at her left thigh in horror. One of the man's missing chunks of skin had just been located. Gabrielle flicked it off, as if it were a large scorpion. Then she began wiping the hand that had touched it on the ground, repeatedly. The whole experience was starting to make her sick to her stomach. Gabrielle turned the pants inside out, to check for any other pieces of the man's legs. There was one more piece clinging to the pants. Holding the pants as far from her as possible, Gabrielle gave the pants a quick snap in an attempt to shake the flesh from them. It worked. The piece of human flesh went soaring through the air. It found its landing spot on the right side of Gabrielle's face, and it stuck. Gabrielle quickly flung it off her face, but the horror of having the rotting flesh touch her lips was too much for her to endure. She fell to her knees and started vomiting. When she had nothing left in her stomach, she got back up. Gabrielle turned the pants right side out and slid them on. Then she slid the boots on, half expecting to find a toe still in one. She bundled up her clothes and hid them in the alley on her way out. As she entered the street, she slid the cap on and tucked her hair up into it.
Gabrielle walked quickly over to the museum. She noticed that the smell was no longer in the alley, it was staying with her. She smelled like rotting flesh, and vomit. Gabrielle noticed the soldier standing guard. It was the same man who had told her how he would hate to have to shoot her. Now, she was going to provide him with that chance. She checked her cap, to make sure that all her hair was tucked up into it, then she pulled the brim down to her eyebrows. She walked closer, trying not to look at the guard. Gabrielle assumed that if she couldn't see his face, then he couldn't see her face. All she wanted to do was walk up to him, then circle the outside of the museum. There had to be a door that was less guarded than the front. She looked down at her stomach. The camera that hung inside her shirt was not very noticeable, but she worried about it anyway. As she approached the guard, he stepped aside. Gabrielle wondered what her rank was. Apparently she out ranked him, and he had to let her pass. Gabrielle glanced back as she walked up the stairs to the museum. The guard was pinching his nose shut with one hand, and fanning the air with the other. She hadn't outranked him, she just stunk. The soldier had no intention of questioning someone who smelled so revolting. Gabrielle tur
ned and entered the museum.
Camera in hand, Gabrielle marched through the museum. She went straight to where the bomb had gone off. The room was exactly as it had been when she last saw it. She photographed every angle of the room, using several rolls of film. In one corner of the room she found the brass engraved plaque that explained what had been there. The top left side was still legible, it read: "The personal diary of L." The rest had been melted away in the blast. The next line read: "Graciously donated by ." Again the rest had been lost to the explosion. It was almost completely useless, but Gabrielle photographed it anyway. Aside from pleasing Dana Barlow, the return trip to the museum proved to be useless. Gabrielle decided it was time to leave.
Twenty minutes later she was back in her street clothes, without incident. Dusk was approaching, so she headed for the concert hall. It was only two blocks away. Along the way she continued to photograph the cloud's destruction, the bodies were too noticeable to ignore. When she reached the concert hall, there was a group of people gathered outside. Slowly they were being shuffled in. Gabrielle made it to the front of the line and saw what the delay was. One soldier was handing out supplies and another was giving a small speech. Gabrielle walked up to them. The first soldier handed her a folded blanket with a pillow on top. The next began to speak.
"Your supplies consist of a blanket, a pillow, and a bar of soap. We hope to have food available by this evening. If not, then by morning. There will be a transport helicopter arriving from the disaster site, Lake Nyos. It will be carrying a group of photographers, like yourselves. If you would like to see the lake then you need to be at the airport at noon. This is the only available transportation. If you miss it, your next ride will be two days later. If you go, your only ride out will be the same. And you will not be allowed to leave this building until dawn. Any questions?" The man completed his speech, then signaled her to enter the building. As Gabrielle walked in, she could hear the man beginning his speech for the next person. The speech faded as she walked into the main room of the hall.
The far side of the hall was lined with blankets and pillows they stretched half way across the floor toward her. She walked a hundred feet across the open floor, and set her supplies down near someone else's blanket. The blanket next to her had no one on it, like many others around the room. Gabrielle looked around, and saw a line fifty people deep in a far off corner. At the front of the line was a small entryway marked, 'restrooms'. Gabrielle knew how bad she smelled, but she was too exhausted to wait in that line. She wondered if they would let her pass without a word, the way the soldier had outside the museum. She doubted it, and didn't try. After unfolding her blanket, Gabrielle laid down on the hardwood floor and stared at the ceiling. She knew that she could not afford to waste time going to Lake Nyos, and at the same time she could not afford not to go. She needed the photographs from the lake, but she also needed to get back to London. That was the only place Alex would be looking for her. Gabrielle continued to stare at the ceiling and contemplate her options. Finally she decided that she would not go to the lake. Instead, she would find a photographer coming from the lake and offer a trade. She would give up some of her photographs in return for some photographs from Lake Nyos. Then she would make her way back to London with both sets of photos, and she would be ahead of everyone else. Gabrielle knew that would impress the pants off Dana Barlow. Simultaneously she would make Alex eternally grateful to her. To Gabrielle, the latter was certainly a much better prize. Gabrielle closed her eyes, and tried to imagine what Alex was going through in the jungle. Every time she tried, her thoughts turned negative. She would start to wonder if he had been hurt, or if he lay dying a hundred miles from civilization. Then she remembered kissing him. As she started to fall asleep, tears slowly streaked down her cheeks. She didn't know if they were from worrying about him, or from recalling their only kiss. Then she realized that they were from both. She was afraid that embrace would be the only time they would ever kiss, and that thought nearly destroyed her.
Chapter 19
April 12
11:20 p.m.
The Congo
Alex was having tremendous difficulty keeping quiet in the near absolute darkness. Fortunately, Thomas had a torch lit to lead the way. The torch didn't provide enough light for Alex to see by, though it prevented him from losing Thomas. Alex followed within a hundred yards of Thomas, though he felt that might still be too close. The more Alex backed off, the less he could see. As a result, Alex found himself tripping over tree roots a lot more. Several times he was sure that he had made Thomas aware of his presence, but he had not. With the monkeys overhead now silent, there was very little noise to cover up for Alex's blunders. Alex knew he was too far away to see much of Thomas, but he felt safer that way. He figured it would be impossible to lose a man carrying a torch in total darkness.
Alex noticed that the flame seemed to stop moving, but Alex was still too far away to spot Thomas. Cautiously, he approached. He didn't want to fall into any traps. For all he knew, Thomas could have heard one of his stumbles. All Thomas would have to do was set the torch down, and wait. If anyone approached the torch, he could shoot them. Alex stopped moving forward when he thought of this. He didn't feel like getting shot. After several seconds, a figure passed in front of the flame. Moments later the fire grew larger. Thomas hadn't been setting a trap. He had been gathering firewood. He was apparently ready to make his camp here. Alex was relieved, no more stumbling in the dark. Alex found a comfortable spot to lie down for the night. It was under a thick bush, and he could not be seen from most directions. He laid down in the bush and stared at the canopy above. The day had seemed to go on forever, for Alex sleep couldn't come soon enough. He had no doubts about being able to sleep on the ground, rocks, or whatever else was available.
A glimmer of light danced around the bush Alex was laying in. It looked like a flashlight beam. That made no sense, if Thomas had a flashlight why had he been using a primitive torch. Alex crawled out to where he could see better. The light was being reflected all over the forest. Alex's first thought was that Thomas might be signaling to someone, but the likelihood of someone else being this close seemed remote. If Thomas wanted to signal someone, a sound signal would be far more effective than a light. Alex knew that Thomas was no idiot, so he couldn't be signaling anyone. Alex's curiosity drove him to crawl closer to the fire.
Within fifteen minutes, Alex had snaked his way toward Thomas and didn't stop until he lay only fifty feet of the fire. Alex caked mud on his face to dull any glare the flames might pick up on. He leaned against a tree trunk and watched Thomas' every move. Thomas had the metal pan in his hand, that was what cast the light across the forest. Thomas was attempting to balance the pan on three stones, like a primitive tripod. When one did not sit just right, he replaced it with another or forced it deeper into the mud. Thomas was trying to balance the pan perfectly, so it didn't tilt in any direction. After several minutes of adjusting, he appeared satisfied. Thomas got up and walked a few steps away from Alex. He knelt down and dipped his head out of sight. A few seconds later he stood back up, and walked slowly back to the pan. He sat down beside the pan and leaned his head over it. Then he slowly let water drip from his lips. The water landed in the pan and slowly made its way to one side. Afterward, Thomas made a correction to the tripod. Then he would repeat the procedure. It took more than twenty minutes for Thomas to be satisfied with the results. Everywhere he placed the water in the pan, it ran straight toward the middle and out the bullet hole in the center. Once Thomas was satisfied he got up from the pan again. Alex expected him to come back with a team of scientists to prove that the pan was level. Alex was still curious what Thomas was doing, but he was losing interest. Thomas was apparently a perfectionist. That didn't interest Alex, not as much as sleep did. Before Alex had time to decide whether or not to go to sleep, Thomas returned from what was apparently a small creek with another mouthful of water. In his hand was a single leaf. Alex was no expert on botany,
so he had no idea what the leaf was. Thomas knelt next to the pan. He began shredding the leaf into tiny bits. He set the pieces on his right thigh, then stared at the pan. Thomas clasped his emptied hands in prayer and looked toward the sky. Then he placed one hand underneath the pan, with a finger plugging the hole. He filled the pan with the water from his mouth, then waited. When the water stopped moving, he picked up a few pieces of the leaf and floated them in the water. Again he waited. Once everything had ceased to move, he removed his finger from underneath. The water began to slide down the hole, then it began to spiral. The water seemed to make a tornado shaped whirlpool, engulfing the tiny pieces of the leaf. Thomas added more pieces of the leaf. They were swept up in the swirling water as well. In a matter of only a few more seconds the water spiraled out the hole in the center. The water landed on the ground and ran toward Thomas. In all his planning, he hadn't thought of where the water would end up. Though, he didn't seem to care that he was getting wet. All he cared about was the pan, and the tiny pieces of the leaf that were left behind. He made a tremendous effort of getting each one out without moving the pan at all. Alex watched for more than an hour, while Thomas repeated every step two more times. By the end of the hour Alex was ready to pass out while leaning against the tree, though he knew he would be spotted if he did. After staring at the water for the third time, Thomas simply picked up the pan. He quickly scraped out the pieces of the leaf, and tucked the pan back into his coat. Then he laid down next to the fire, with his back toward Alex. There he fell asleep.