[2016] Rubbing Stones

by Nancy Burkey

  She looked at Rick but said nothing. Thabani and Zuka were too close now for her to speak. Rick winked at her. Had he seen what Baruti saw? Was he reassuring her? She searched his face. He smiled and looked away.

  They sat in silence while Baruti started the propane stove and began sorting through the food supplies. Thabani checked on Lorenzo and the others.

  “Lorenzo’s still trying to talk himself out of this,” Thabani said when he returned.

  Zuka grunted.

  Thabani scanned the campsite. “After we eat we better tie Baruti up for the night.”

  Jane watched Baruti. He kept stirring the pot, showing no reaction to what Thabani had said. He then stepped away from the stove and gathered the bowls. He was behind their captors. Baruti paused and stared directly at Paul. Neither Zuka nor Thabani were watching them. Paul raised his eyebrows. Baruti nodded toward the river.

  Paul put his hand up to his face as if to scratch his cheek but with his forefinger pointed to himself, then at the river.

  Baruti shook his head.

  Paul paused, he still held his hand to his face. He then pointed at Baruti, who nodded. Paul glanced over toward Zuka and Thabani, now re-engaged in whispered conversation. He looked back at Baruti, staring at an area of the campground behind the large guide tent, an area that would give no direct line of sight to the shore. Paul nodded and pointed down at the ground with his eyebrows raised.

  Baruti nodded again. “Yes, now,” was the unmistakable answer.

  “Stay with Jane,” Paul whispered to Tommy, who sniffled his objection but didn’t move.

  Paul started to tap his right foot—it began as a slow rhythmic motion but accelerated into showy agitation. His head darted around without his eyes focusing anywhere and his breathing came in gasps. He looked down the river, up along the west end of the beach, and over at the trail. His antics caught the attention of Zuka, who nudged Thabani. Paul stood up and brushed the dirt off his shorts with quick forceful motions. He now had everyone’s attention.

  “Sit back down,” Thabani said. “Right now, do you—”

  “This is bullshit,” Paul said. “This is absolute bullshit!” His voice rose even louder. “I’m not staying here, I’m out of here.” He started to walk toward the trail on the backside of the guide tent.

  Thabani cocked his gun. “You better think twice about that. Your little boy here looks a bit young to lose his father.”

  Paul turned and faced Thabani. “You’re not a killer,” he said. “You wouldn’t murder anybody.”

  Thabani took a step closer.

  Paul’s voice rose. “I know all about you and your sad story. The girl died, but you didn’t kill her. You’re a rafting guide, a river rat who’s down on his luck. Boo-hoo.” He spit on the ground. “But you’re not a criminal or a murderer. Maybe you’re a terrorist wannabe, but I’m not going to help you out.”

  Paul backed up toward the trail as he talked. He drew them to the far side of the tent.

  “You see, it’s hard to take hostages. They’re not all going to cooperate just because you have a gun.” Paul had almost reached the trailhead. “Sometimes you have to decide if it’s really worth it. Becoming a murderer is a big decision.” He turned his back to Thabani and started along the trail.

  The gun fired. Paul fell as Tommy let out a tortured scream.

  Jane grabbed Tommy and covered his eyes, but the boy wriggled free and ran to his father. Paul lay on the ground holding his right leg. The ground became soaked with blood.

  Thabani looked startled. He turned to Zuka, whose rifle had a small amount of smoke leaving the muzzle.

  Jane stood up and addressed Zuka. “May I help him?”

  He nodded, but after every few steps she turned around to make eye contact with Zuka, needed to reaffirm the agreement, make sure he hadn’t changed his mind or misunderstood her intent. She wasn’t taking anything for granted.

  Paul held his leg and was clearly in serious pain. But when Tommy whimpered, Paul took in a deep breath and managed to smile at his son. Tommy grabbed his father’s neck and held tight. When she reached the trailhead where the two sat, Jane ripped Paul’s pant leg to expose the wound.

  “I want the boy to get me some water. Would that be all right?” she called out over her shoulder.

  “Okay,” Zuka said. Tommy ran over to grab his water bottle.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” She examined Paul’s wound. “You were supposed to be a distraction, not a target.” She noted that the bullet had not hit bone or any major arteries. It was a transverse wound, about two centimeters deep, and entered the back of his outer thigh midway between his buttock and knee. It was the exit wound in front that was bleeding profusely. When she wiped away the blood with her scarf, she found it to be a dime-size fairly clean hole. “And what was that about a dead girl?”

  “I’m surprised at you, Jane. Didn’t do all your homework, did you?” He was leaning up on one elbow and spoke through clenched teeth.

  She poured the water Tommy brought over Paul’s wound. He winced in agony, but the water allowed her to get a good look at the hole. It was clean. She put pressure on the wound. Paul began to hyperventilate, his arms shook violently—the initial numbing had worn off.

  “Lie back down.” She pulled his arm out and caught his head before it hit the ground. “Breathe slowly, like this.” She pursed her lips into an oval and let out air. “I don’t need you to pass out on me.”

  He stared straight up, not looking at her. It was the first time she had touched him, and although she assumed the most clinical stance she could without a white lab coat, she could feel his discomfort. She wrung the blood out of her bandana and tied it tightly around his leg to stop the bleeding.

  “Looks like infection is going to be our biggest worry with this one,” she said.

  “Our biggest problem?”

  “If you hadn’t noticed, we’re in this together. And if you have any more information about what might be going on, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t keep it to yourself.”

  That’s when she heard the splash. She turned and saw Baruti swimming upstream across the river, a hundred yards up. She had been so distracted by Paul’s behavior that she’d almost forgotten the point of it. Rick was gone.

  Zuka yelled to Thabani, “Hold them there this time.” He ran down to the edge of the water and yelled over his shoulder, “ and shoot if you have to.”

  When he reached the edge of the river, Zuka raised his rifle to his shoulder to take aim.

  Jane stood and looked downstream. Rick had entered the river without a sound and was only a third of the way across. He must have waited until Baruti had started across to slip in himself. That’s when she saw the ten-foot crocodile on the opposite bank slither into the water. It headed toward Rick, who now reached the halfway point. He was swimming hard toward a sharp bend to the north, around which he would be hidden from view by rocks and an outcropping of large acacias.

  A shot rang out, and one of the boys screamed—a faraway noise compared to the pounding in Jane’s head. Baruti went under a moment, then surfaced face down on the river’s surface. His limp body drifted downstream.

  Rick struggled against the current to reach the other side. Zuka reloaded and took aim. The crocodile descended under the water twenty yards from where Rick propelled himself as fast as possible across the river. Zuka steadied his weapon and focused. He paused only a moment, then shot twice.

  Rick disappeared under the water, which immediately turned crimson. Jane looked away from the river and continued to adjust the bandage on Paul’s leg, hands shaking, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  CHAPTER 11

  By the time Katura stopped to catch her breath, she was somewhere in an elaborate labyrinth of small residential streets. She knew Thabani’s house was in this general direction but she wasn’t clear exactly where. She’d dashed down little streets and alleyways to avoid being followed, but now it would take her some time to get her be
arings. It didn’t really matter, she needed time to think.

  After she’d walked for a half-hour or so, she came to a schoolyard and stopped to rest. Children poured out of the classrooms and into the playground when the bell rang. Older kids, kids her age, headed for the rear of the school. The trees that lined the back of the field looked like the ones she could see from Thabani’s back yard. She circled around the grounds and saw at a distance the edge of his property.

  As she walked around the field, a group of young teenagers began to divide up into teams. One of the boys juggled a soccer ball. Maybe he was a good player—he certainly didn’t seem concerned about which team chose him. He glanced her way and lost control of the ball, which sailed toward her and stopped. Katura slid her foot over the top of the ball, created a spin, and popped the ball up to bounce off her knee before she stepped up and served it out of the air back to the boy. He caught it with a solid snap down to his feet, then looked up and smiled at her. Without a word, he motioned his invitation for her to join in.

  “Not today.” She started to jog toward the trees. “I’m busy.”

  “We’re here every afternoon.”

  There’s got to be a map somewhere. Katura had gone through every drawer of Thabani’s desk and was now headed for his closet. She grabbed a chair and hopped up to feel the top shelf for any papers that might be stuck between the clothes he’d thrown up there. Nothing. The bottom of the closet was a mess, so she saved it for last. She plopped herself down on the floor in front of the pile of rafting gear and started to sort through it. At the back she found a small file box and opened it. It was filled with papers, receipts from payments for rafting trips, none dated in the last two months. He must have been out of work for a while. In the back was a file folder labeled “Accident” with some newspaper clippings and a thick report. Might be something to look at later, no time now. She closed the file box.

  A bright orange dry bag lay next to her on the floor. That’s where she found it. In a side compartment inside the bag was a laminated map of the river, folded into a small square. Its primary purpose was to show the various twists and turns of the river with each rapid well marked. But off to the side she could make out small villages and towns on the way to Mana Pools. It was the place Zuka had mentioned the night before, where the MDC rebels had their camp—where Japera and the rest must be headed. She might be able to hitch rides or take buses and zigzag her way to that area without calling too much attention to herself.

  She froze—the front door had opened and slammed shut. She stuffed the map quickly into her pocket. Within seconds a man she’d never seen before stood at Thabani’s bedroom door.

  “What are you looking for?” he said. He was at least twice her age, looked to be in his mid-thirties. She didn’t like his tone.

  “Who are you? And what are you doing in my cousin’s house?” She glanced briefly around and noted that he was standing in the only exit from the room.

  “Changa,” he said. “I’ll be staying here. I needed a place to live. Zuka told me I could crash here.”

  “Oh, you’re a friend of Zuka’s.” She realized he must have gotten in with a key and relaxed her shoulders. “Why didn’t you say that? You scared me.” She stood up to go into the living room, but he didn’t move from the doorway. “Where are you coming from?”

  “Bulawayo.”

  “And what brings you all the way up here?”

  “Business. And Zuka said I should look after you, make sure you’re safe.”

  “Oh, that’s sweet of him, but I’m fine, don’t bother with me.” Before the sentence was done, her mind had raced to an unsettling conclusion. Bulawayo was too far away for him to be telling the truth—the time line didn’t work. The plan had only been formulated last night in the bar, and even if the guys had decided to leave her here from the start, this Changa guy couldn’t have gotten word and made it in that amount of time. Katura wanted out of this room, out of this house. She took a step toward the door.

  “You must be starving after such a trip, Changa. Let me find something for you in the kitchen.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.” Not a muscle moved on his body. She couldn’t get past him.

  “Your question?”

  “What were you looking for?”

  “Oh.” She turned back toward the closet. “You see, I…” She bit her lip and squatted down. She searched the closet. “Oh, there it is.” She reached deep into the back and pulled out a soccer ball. “Some of the kids at the school invited me to play and I just ran home to get this. I knew Thabani would have one.” She turned with the ball under her arm. “Let me make you a quick sandwich and then I’ll be on my way.”

  “They invited you to play but didn’t have a ball?” He continued to block the doorway.

  “Of course they had one, it’s just getting flat. May I?” She motioned beyond him.

  He stared at her for a few seconds before moving back into the hallway. He followed her into the kitchen. Katura could feel his eyes watching her every move. She attempted to make light conversation, to make her movements around the kitchen seem casual. He answered her questions well enough, but there was something odd about his manner. She handed him the sandwich and excused herself to go to the bathroom.

  She leaned against the inside door and let out a deep sigh. Was she reading too much into this? Hard to tell. She turned to lock the door. Great—no lock. Typical bachelor, not concerned with privacy. She took down the shower curtain and placed the rod under the door handle, secured it tightly against the vanity just opposite the door. He might still be able to force it open, but not quickly.

  She scanned the room. There was a small high window that faced onto the side alley. Maybe she could open it quietly enough to not be heard. She turned the waste can over, stepped up on it, and examined the window. It was secured shut with some kind of plaster. She pushed hard on the frame to break the seal, but the window didn’t budge. How long had it been there? She couldn’t tell, it wasn’t something she would have looked for before. But why would someone…?

  When she walked out of the bathroom Changa startled her in the dark hallway.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine.” She moved past him.

  “You took an awful long time in—”

  “Look, you’re beginning to bug me. I appreciate that my brother and his friend want me to be safe, but I don’t need a personal bodyguard, now back off.” She stomped into the living room, grabbed the soccer ball, and stormed out of the house.

  She’d taken about three steps down the walkway before her arm was almost jerked out of its socket.

  “I’ll drive you there.” He pulled her over to a large van parked in the driveway and opened the door.

  “It’s very close, I can just cut through the backyard—”

  “Get in.” He didn’t let go of her arm until she was in the passenger seat. He was seated beside her and had locked the doors before she had time to think. He started the engine, but before backing up, he turned to her. “Look, I just want to make sure nothing happens on my watch.”

  Katura was relieved to see the local kids still playing soccer when she and Changa reached them. The boy who’d invited her seemed surprised to see her but introduced her to the others and put her on his team. It was a game with kids of all ages and required the older ones not to play competitively, which was fortunate since Katura’s mind wasn’t on the game. When she told Changa she could walk home after the game, he’d just smiled. Now she glanced over every few minutes to see the white van on the road across from the field. As she continued to play, she felt as if something were crowding her chest, making it hard for her lungs to get enough air.

  CHAPTER 12

  “Get everyone inside.” Zuka yelled over his shoulder to his comrades.

  Japera had come out of the guide tent just after the shots were fired. He pulled Thabani aside. They weren’t listening to Zuka, but it took him a moment to notice. He wa
tched them, then turned back to the hostages.

  “Split up into two tents.” He motioned with his rifle.

  Jane continued wrapping Paul’s leg. She stared at the leg, stared at the wrapping, tried to keep herself from thinking about Rick. She felt a tingling numbness in her fingers as she moved around Paul’s thigh. Slow down your breathing. She counted to five and deeply inhaled, then exhaled just as slowly. She leaned over and felt the bandana that bound Paul’s leg—tight enough to stop the bleeding, not so tight as to cut off circulation to his foot. She secured the knot. He was lucky no major vessel had been hit.

  She bit her upper lip and closed her eyes a moment. Hit? Gunshots, how do bullets travel under water? Two shots, where’d they go? Had it hurt, was it over fast? Maybe he’d just been injured. But then there was the crocodile—she preferred bullets. She opened her eyes, which remained unfocused. She had waited ten minutes, seemed like an hour, for Rick to come up, to crawl unharmed onto the shore of the other side. Nothing. Breathe, slowly breathe. She forced herself to concentrate on Paul’s leg. It would need to be redressed once she could get to her medical supplies, but this should be good enough for him to get up from where he lay.

  Out of the corner of her eye she watched the three Africans. Who were these men? What did they want? She watched their body language but could read nothing. They were nothing more than strangers to her. Their culture, their history—she had nothing to draw upon.

  “Michael, help me get Paul into the tent.” It wasn’t far but he shouldn’t put weight on it. Paul’s hefty build would be too much for her alone. “Here, lean this way on your right hand and I’ll lift underneath your arm. Make sure you keep that leg stiff, no bending. Michael will hoist up the left…” Michael?