[2016] Rubbing Stones

by Nancy Burkey

  “New lock? Good idea,” she said. “Can’t be too careful these days.” She watched him closely. He scooted back on the floor, effectively blocking her ability to leave.

  “I have to go out later,” he said.

  She made herself wait, knowing he would tell her more when he was ready. Sure enough, after a few minutes he said, “My mother’s sick.” He picked up several sizes of screws to measure their length against the depth of the door. “I won’t be gone long today, but tomorrow…” He made his selection and continued to drill into the door. “Need to make sure you’re safe, might be away a few days.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it.” She reached down and picked up the new lock. “About your mother. Hope it’s not serious.” Sick mom, right. How lame an excuse was that? But then she’d been working hard to convince him she was naïve enough to believe just about anything.

  The lock looked weird. She turned the hardware around in her hand, then realized why—he’d altered the locking mechanism. It could be latched from the outside with a key but not opened from inside. He was planning on locking her in tomorrow when he left for several days.

  Changa grabbed the lock out of her hand, then glanced down at the soccer ball next to him.

  “Remember I have another practice today? I told you about it last night.” He never seemed to listen to her chatter anyway, maybe he’d miss the lie. “Big game in the morning.”

  He glared at her, unblinking. She shifted her feet.

  “Did I forget to tell you? Sorry.”

  He placed the lock in the newly created hole.

  “The guys wanted to come over and meet you.”

  Changa stopped turning the screwdriver.

  She waited a moment. Let it sink in. “But don’t worry, I told them you were shy and I’d meet them at the field. In fact, I better get going or they’ll be right over to get me.”

  He didn’t move for a long moment. Then he slowly shifted out of her way. Katura moved past him onto the walkway, then turned back.

  “Oh, what time will you be back? So I can have dinner ready.”

  He continued working and didn’t respond. She hadn’t expected him to. She wasn’t planning on returning anyway. She crossed over the front lawn and was just about to round the corner where she’d double back away from the field when she heard his booming voice behind her.

  “Katura, what are you doing?”

  She froze. From the sound, she knew he was too close for her to be able to run and get away from him. How had she blown it? She turned around slowly.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” He held up her soccer ball.

  “Gee, thanks, but we’re using one of the other kid’s. They think mine’s gone a bit flat.”

  Changa squeezed the ball between his two large hands and shrugged. He turned and headed back toward the house. She heard the front door close.

  CHAPTER 26

  “Hey!” Zuka yelled out his door. “Coffee.”

  “I’m not your—”

  The door slammed, and he was back inside his hut.

  Apparently I am. She searched the bags that had arrived last night, no coffee. She pounded on the door, then tried the latch.

  “Your delivery boy only brought tea.”

  He was sitting up in bed reading a newspaper. Changa must be bringing them in with his deliveries. Zuka quickly folded up the paper and looked up at her, his face unreadable. She hesitated, then walked in and set the cup down on the bed stand.

  “I found it in the bags. I don’t know the brand, but Japera said it was good.” She took a sip of her own cup. “He’s right.”

  Zuka motioned toward the bed, scooting over to allow enough room for her to sit without touching him. She took another sip of her tea. He seemed to be studying her.

  “How’s your boy doing?” he said.

  She stiffened. In here she wasn’t a mother, didn’t have a family, wasn’t a wife or—worse—a widow. Here it was different, had to be different. She stared at her tea, then moved the cup slowly up to her mouth. It was important he not see her anger.

  Zuka picked up his cup, looked at the tea, took a tiny sip, swirled it around. Would he be able to discern the bitter taste of morphine? She’d been careful not to put in too much but couldn’t risk testing it herself.

  “Too hot.” He set down the cup.

  She shrugged. “Thought you could handle it.”

  Zuka suddenly grabbed her, pulled her down on the bed and flipped her around. She held her breath and clenched her fists. It wasn’t just the suddenness that startled her. It was his strength.

  Then there was a shift. He laid his hands softly on her thighs—moved them down her legs, touching her skin lightly, almost imperceptibly. When he reached her toes he rolled his fingers over them one at a time, both hands gently massaging the curves of her foot. He took each toe, caressing as if it were the only body part he cared about, as if each toe required his total concentration. She sat up on her elbows, watched him. He locked onto her eyes, his face motionless as he continued to slowly, methodically work each muscle.

  She lay back, tried to focus on her feet. For now, she needed to be out of her head, away from her thoughts, her plans—pretend she was his lover. She forced herself to focus on his touch, on each finger he moved across her skin, the palm of his hands as they alternated between deep massage and gentle caress. He needed to feel her yield everything to him. She took in a deep breath and pictured his hands moving across her, pictured herself giving every inch that he touched over to his fingers, closed her eyes and pictured Rick. He moved the palm of his hand down the bottom of her feet, pushing deeply into the soles. She squirmed. The pressure was not exactly painful, but she was aware that it could be, that he was precise in the depths of his touch.

  Her thoughts suddenly went to the tea. He hadn’t had any. Was there a way to make that happen?

  She felt her left foot being lifted, his right hand under her calf. His tongue moved between her toes, sucking ever so slightly, then down the sole of her foot. She swallowed hard—a tingling sensation moved throughout her body, her breaths became shallow. The back of his fingers moved up her calves to her inner thighs. He stopped and moved back down, retreating to her ankles. He crossed her feet, nudged her flank, motioned for her to turn over. She obliged and lay on her stomach.

  He moved his hands up her legs and around her hips, slowly lifted her shirt. He straddled her waist as he smoothed his hands over her shoulders and down her back. His left hand massaged deeply into her back muscles while his right softly caressed her neck, his fingers moving gently over and around her ears, down her cheek and back to the base of her neck. Then he changed his movement, altered his position symmetrically. His right hand pushed deeply into the right side of her back while his left caressed her face and neck.

  At first the change of pace went almost unnoticed, could have been her imagination. Then it was unmistakable. He was slowing down, softening his touch, until he finally stopped. He hesitated a moment, then moved off of her.

  “Time for work,” he said. He picked up the teacup.

  Her heart was pounding in her throat. She held her breath as he started out the door and watched him descend the steps, teacup in hand. She heard him dump the contents on the ground outside.

  “Hey,” Zuka yelled across the yard. “I thought you were going to get more firewood.”

  Japera, on his way up the porch steps to his hut for a badly needed nap, stopped and said, “We—I did. Look next to the stove.” The door slammed behind him.

  Zuka kicked the remaining few logs. He looked back at Japera’s hut.

  “I’ll get it.” Michael hopped down from the picnic table. “I used a lot more than usual—had to keep boiling water for my brother.”

  “You must’ve had a bonfire.” Zuka glanced between the buildings.

  All of the nearby wood appeared to have been used. He made sure Zuka couldn’t see behind the huts from this angle. Zuka shook his head, denying Michael
permission to go for the wood.

  “Suit yourself.” Michael sat back down. He didn’t want to seem anxious to get away.

  Just then Paul came clumping down the steps from his hut. He moved fairly quickly and very oddly, putting his weight on his right leg with his left held in a stiff angle out from the side until he’d touch it down for a couple of seconds to propel himself forward. He headed straight for the picnic table.

  Zuka glanced over at Michael and nodded for him to go for wood.

  He didn’t need anything more by way of an invitation. Whatever trouble Paul was going to cause was his problem. As soon as Michael rounded the corner behind the lodge, he took off running. He wanted as much time as possible in the woods. He crossed the stream without difficulty, then approached the area where Lorenzo’s body had been. Now it all looked the same. For as far back as he could see, the vegetation was consistent, no landmarks, no body. He searched moving in concentric circles until he could barely see the edge of the woods.

  Nothing.

  He headed straight back to the stream to start over. He rubbed his face, then looked around, tried to remember exactly where he and Japera had parted. He recognized a large boulder that had been on the north end of the stream just after Japera had gone the other way. It was from here that Michael had entered the forest to collect firewood. What was the exact direction he had taken once he left the stream? He’d walked several minutes into the heavily forested area when he had seen Lorenzo’s body—a small mistake in the angle he chose now could lead to a big distance fifty or a hundred yards in. He combed the area a second time. Still nothing.

  He sat on a nearby boulder, still looking for landmarks. The rock he was sitting on looked vaguely familiar. No wonder—he’d almost run into it right after he saw the body, when he jumped back in horror. The corpse had to be close by. He searched the immediate area, then groaned. Ten yards away there was another large rock just like it. He scanned the wider area. In fact, they were everywhere.

  “Michael.”

  His head jerked.

  “Michael, over here.” He knew that voice. He couldn’t be hearing that voice.

  Fifty yards away a tall, thin figure was moving quickly toward him. There was no way it could be Rick. Michael jumped down from the boulder and saw the smile on the man’s face. He’d never seen Rick when he wasn’t clean-shaven and well groomed. And Rick was dead.

  Michael started running—they both were running. They stood holding each other for several minutes before Rick spoke.

  “It’ll be okay, Michael.”

  He hadn’t been aware that he was crying. He pulled away and wiped his face, then quickly looked at Rick.

  Rick laughed. “Still here.” His eyes were wet too.

  “We thought you were dead.”

  Rick nodded. “I turned back after the first shot. I thought whoever was shooting would expect me to try to cross so I doubled back to this side of the river, just beyond the jetty. Baruti knew where he was going. He didn’t need me.”

  “But we searched that whole area.”

  “I know! That guy who came looking with you almost saw me. I buried myself in some rocks on the far side of the jetty. When you guys came over the top he almost crushed me with the rubble he sent down.”

  “Zuka.”

  “What?”

  “That guy, it was Zuka.” It seemed odd that these Africans were now part of his life and Rick didn’t even know their names. He didn’t know that Paul was injured, that Jake was sick. So much had happened since that day on the beach. “He killed Baruti. Shot him as he tried to cross the river.”

  Rick winced. Michael waited while it sank in—no one had gone for help. Rick put his arm around Michael and motioned toward a fallen tree where they could sit.

  “I knew you’d recognize the bandana, your mother’s. I just knew it.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I buried him—didn’t want you to find him again. Once was more than enough. And the hyenas…” Rick shook his head. “You didn’t need to see that.”

  Michael closed his eyes for a couple of seconds. The image of Lorenzo’s body was impossible to erase—half buried in the vegetation with his mother’s blood-stained cloth over his face. What would happen to him, to any of them, if they were left in this wilderness? He got up and started to pace, he needed to make the visuals go away.

  “How’s your mother holding up?”

  “She’s doing okay.”

  Rick stared at Michael for a few minutes, then nodded. “She’ll do anything she can to get her boys out of there.”

  “She doesn’t know you’re alive.” He tried to swallow through the lump in his throat. “She thought, we all thought…there was blood in the river. I knew it could have been the crocodile, but then I thought it was just wishful thinking.” He covered his face with his hands.

  Rick grabbed his arms. He pulled them down, forcing Michael to look at him. “She can’t know.”

  “What? But she’s—”

  “Doesn’t matter. What matters is that she continues to do whatever she can to get out. Whatever she’s doing, I know she has to. Do you get that. Michael?”

  Whatever she’s doing? Michael couldn’t look at him.

  “But what about you?” He raised his voice. “Aren’t you going to—”

  “Of course, when I can.” Rick got up. He took a few steps away. He wasn’t a large man but he’d always been fit, muscular. Now he looked weak, his skin pale.

  “What have you been eating?”

  Rick laughed. “Anything I can, which means not much. I was able to sneak into the lodge through the back at first. Stole some food and stuff. Not now, though. Too risky.”

  He stared at Michael in silence for a moment.

  “I look that bad, eh? No wonder Lorenzo decided to go it alone.” He glanced across the stream. “I mean before he got shot by the stocky one. Zuka? I was very lucky he never saw me.”

  Michael nodded.

  “Look. Michael, even at my best I couldn’t just run in there like Rambo. I have to watch from the outside and make my move when it makes sense.”

  Michael picked up a rock and threw it squarely at a tree thirty yards away. A flock of small birds took flight.

  “I meant we, Michael. I didn’t mean to leave you out. We’ll make our move once I have a bit more strength.”

  “I’m not staying out here.”

  “You’re not going back in there, Michael. You—”

  “I have to go.” He took a few steps toward the stream. “If I’m not back soon, they’ll kill Mom and Jake. Zuka can’t know you’re alive or that anything has changed.”

  “Michael, you’re out now.” Rick had never raised his voice to him before. “I’m not losing all of you.” He grabbed Michael’s wrist. “She’d want me to—”

  “I’m not leaving them there.” He twisted his arm and broke free.

  Rick looked down at Michael’s hands, then back up at his face.

  Michael relaxed his fists. “I’m sorry, I—”

  “It’s okay. You’re probably right, it’s safer for now, for everyone.” His eyes seemed to lose focus. “It’s just hard to get you back and let you go almost in the same breath.”

  “You know how glad I am you’re okay?”

  “I know.”

  “I can’t show up empty-handed.” Michael quickly gathered an armful of wood. “Jake’s a little sick, he’s not coming out for meals. I’ll leave extra food behind our hut. Can you get to it before the animals do?”

  “Not a problem. Can you keep our secret?”

  “Not a problem.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Jane slammed the food down in front of Zuka.

  Zuka didn’t flinch. He looked down at the table and gathered together the small pile of rice that had leapt off his plate. He formed it into a round ball with his right hand and tossed it far from the picnic area. Then he picked up his utensils, examined them as if judging her cleaning skills. Jane leaned do
wn within an inch of his ear.

  “Leave. Her. Alone.”

  Zuka took a bite of the meat, some part of a chicken that Jane couldn’t identify. She’d just braised it over the open flame and dumped it on top of a pile of rice.

  “I said—”

  “I heard what you said.” He continued to chew his food.

  Jane stood motionless behind him. She’d seen Zuka emerge from Shelly’s hut in the early hours that morning, before anyone was usually up. The only reason she was up herself was because she wanted to make a special breakfast for Jake, who was finally keeping food down. But when she saw Zuka, she felt the energy suddenly drain out of her. She hated the thought of Zuka taking advantage of the young Australian guide. Raping the young Australian guide.

  “Zuka.” She took in a long breath. “She’s young. None of this is her fault, there’s no reason to hurt her. If it’s sex you want, you’ve got me, any time, just leave her alone. She’s going to be damaged enough being locked up in there for days.”

  “Damaged?” He laughed.

  “You arrogant bastard.” Her hands were trembling.

  “What makes you think she wants to be left alone?”

  Zuka’s head jerked slightly to the right as the palm of Jane’s hand came across his face. Her hand stung—his cheek must be burning. He stared straight ahead, not moving.

  Jane took a step back.

  Zuka picked up his plate and walked over to his hut. He sat on the top step and resumed eating.

  “That’s an interesting tactic.” Jane hadn’t seen Paul come out of his hut, but there he was, leaning heavily on the branch he used as a crutch.

  “What tactic?” Michael came bounding down the steps. He grabbed two plates and nodded for more after she’d put a fairly large pile of food on each. He nodded again when she hesitated. “Jake’s really hungry, Mom.”

  Jane put a second mound on one of the plates, then turned to Paul. “I just don’t want the girl hurt.”