[2016] Rubbing Stones
Page 21
“Paul?” She stepped across the threshold and pulled the door closed behind her. She moved to the bathroom door. “Paul? You in there?”
That was odd. She’d just come from her own hut and no one had been in the central camp area. Where would he go? It was then that she realized how different the room looked.
Over the past week she’d noticed that both their huts had become increasingly messy. She’d been too busy to keep things picked up, and Michael and Jake were not inclined even in the best of times. Paul and Tommy’s place had been just as bad, but today it was jarringly neat. The bathroom counter that had been strewn with toiletries was now empty. Paul and Tommy’s clothes were neatly folded and piled along one wall. In the corner at the foot of Paul’s bed rested his large olive green backpack and Tommy’s smaller navy blue one. She couldn’t remember seeing them out since the day they’d arrived. Space was at such a premium in these small rooms that the packs had been kept under the cots.
She glanced over at the bathroom window. The screen was still gone, but now the window was slightly open, letting in a soft, cool breeze. Paul must have jumped out the back so as not to be seen by whoever was keeping guard at the time. She looked out toward the picnic area. It was empty. Japera had taken his usual walk around the periphery, and if she wasn’t mistaken, Michael had gone with him.
Jane leaned over the pack, keeping her eyes on the bathroom window. She unzipped the front pouch and rummaged through the contents. From this angle she’d be able to see Paul slip his fingers in the crack, and by the time it was open wide enough for him to fit through, she could be out the front door.
She closed up the pouch and noted the usual overnight toiletries and some pills she didn’t recognize. Her hands moved to the main pouch and felt the outside. She fingered several liter-size canisters, opened the pack quickly, and removed one. A clear liquid sloshed back and forth. She unscrewed the lid and smelled. Nothing. She dipped a finger inside and tasted—just water. She counted eight bottles before replacing the one she’d inspected. She moved quickly over to Tommy’s pack and felt the contents through the outside. Six more bottles.
Jane sat down on Paul’s cot, keeping her eyes on the window. She could feel her pounding heart return to normal speed. So Paul planned to escape, to take Tommy. She glanced down again at the backpacks weighted down with water. If Paul could alert the authorities, let them know how to find them—
“Can I help you?”
She stood up quickly. Paul leaned against the door jamb, his arms crossed.
“I came to see how you were feeling, how your leg was doing.” She glanced down at his thigh. Paul didn’t follow her gaze. He just stared at her. “I didn’t mean to intrude—”
“Really?”
She moved toward the door, but his body blocked her exit.
“What were you doing in here, Jane?”
“I told you, I came to check on your leg.”
“You’re worried about my leg?” He shifted his weight to lean primarily on the side without the bandage. “Really, Jane? And when you saw my leg wasn’t here you thought you’d just snoop around?”
She glanced out the window. Japera and Michael weren’t back yet. She had no idea how far they’d wandered.
“Were you going to tell me you’re leaving?”
He smiled. “Good work, detective.”
“I don’t think you can make it, Paul. Your leg’s too bad for a long trek and you can’t follow the road or they’ll find you. You’d have to take an indirect route and it’s likely you’d get lost.”
“I’m still supposed to believe it’s me you’re worried about.” He laughed.
“Paul, listen. Lorenzo could have made it out by now. He’s probably already contacted the embassy. They’re likely working on getting us out right now.”
“Right. Sure. Because the Zimbabwe National Army operates on just the same kind of precision as the Israelis in Entebbe, right? They’re just going to sweep in here and save us all.”
Jane sat back down. “You’re convinced they’ll just screw it up.”
“Yep.”
“And you were going to leave me and the boys here to take our chances.” She looked up at Paul’s silhouette in the doorway. Why had she nursed this man’s wounds?
“Look, Jane, we all have to take care of our own. I can’t have Jake slowing us down. Tommy says he’s pretty sick.”
“Michael and I can get him out.” She started to pace around the hut.
“And if you’re carrying him, you’re not carrying water. Face it, Jane—it doesn’t work.”
“If you actually make it out without getting shot, then once you’re gone they’ll watch us even closer—we’d never get out.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Okay, so we can’t wait for Jake to get better. Fine. Michael and I will get him out and carry our own water. We won’t expect anything from you.” She glared at him. “But we all have to leave at the same time.”
Paul moved aside to allow her by. “Tomorrow night, then. If you’re not ready, we’re not waiting.” He turned and looked straight into her eyes. “And once we’ve cleared this place, you’re on your own.”
“Got it.”
Michael shifted from one foot to the other as he stood over the fire pit. How was he going to bring it up? It had been so many years. He put his hands over the boiling water. The steam felt good, so warm. The nights had grown colder and colder. He glanced over at the empty huts. Maybe there were blankets left somewhere in those rooms. He’d have to check on it in the morning.
“Michael, could you get some empty water bottles from inside?” His mother came down the stairs of Paul’s hut. “I…” She glanced over at Japera, who was sitting on the picnic table in the shade. “I thought we’d fill up a few more for the night.”
“We’ve got plenty, Mom.” He took in a deep breath as she came up. “Mom, do you think we could—”
“Honey, just go get the two empty ones behind my cot and fill them.” She started to lay out the ingredients for the evening meal. Sadza, as usual.
“Mom, I want to talk to you about something.” It was important not to speak about this in front of Jake. He needed her alone. Japera was irrelevant, he wouldn’t understand or care—but it would upset Jake. “Remember when…” Bad start. Of course she’d remember. A person doesn’t forget the day she walks in on her husband and another woman. “I need to talk to you about something important.”
Jane turned and faced him. “Fine, Michael, we’ll talk. But will you go and get those bottles first? I need them filled before I start making the sadza with the rest of the water.”
“Mom, I just put two in there, that’s plenty for the night.” He didn’t mean to raise his voice. This was going all wrong.
“Now, Michael.”
“Fine.” He turned abruptly and headed toward the hut.
CHAPTER 30
“Temperature’s really dropping.” Jane walked into the hut holding two steaming bowls of sadza. She was as tired of this porridge as her sons. “Everyone’s eating inside tonight.”
She set her and Michael’s bowls down on the backpack frame they were using as a small table in the middle of the room. Jake lay curled up on his cot. The bowl Michael had brought in an hour earlier sat next to him untouched.
“Michael!”
He put down his book. “Okay, Mom.” He reached over and picked up one of the bowls, then put it right back down. “It’s got to cool first anyway. How’d you carry that in?” He glanced up at her. “What?”
“I told you to wake him up and make sure he finishes the bowl. I can’t do everything around here, Michael.” She knew that wasn’t fair, but she was tired. She let out a heavy sigh and sat down next to Jake.
“I tried, Mom. He said he wasn’t hungry and wanted to sleep.”
“It’s not optional, he needs to eat. He doesn’t have any strength. He was doing better, and now. . .”
She shook his shoulder but Jake just moved away from her.
Jake let out a groan and looked at her through half-open lids.
Michael grabbed his spoon and stirred the sadza. “You said it’d take a week before he’d be back to normal anyway—you said he just needed to sleep it off and drink water.” He watched the steam escape in swirls above the bowl.
“He has to get some energy back.” She was whispering now.
She moved to the head of the cot, grabbed Jake under his arms, and pulled him into a sitting position.
“Lord, he’s hot.” She reached around and felt his forehead. “Michael, he’s burning up again. Get me some Tylenol.” She felt Jake’s cheeks—hot and moist. “Here, take some water.”
He let her pour water slowly between his lips, then opened his eyes all the way and took the bottle from her. He plopped the two pills Michael handed him into his mouth and took another big swig. He looked over at the sadza.
“I’ll eat it all, Mom. I promise.” He slid back down and curled up around the jacket he was using as a pillow. “In the morning.”
“No, Jake.” She pulled the jacket from him and propped it against the wall. “Sit back up and eat this now.”
“Mom, why are you torturing him? Let him sleep.” Michael blew on a spoonful before taking a small sample. “It’s not like this stuff goes bad, it’s already bad. Disgusting would be a good word for it.”
“Michael, he needs his strength. We have to get out of here. You and I can’t carry him and enough water to get very far.”
“What? When did this get decided?” He sat straight up. “How come I’m out of the loop? Mom, I’ve been out there, you don’t know, it’s—”
“Keep your voice down, Michael.”
She felt Jake again. The illness was cycling up again. There was no way he was going to be much better by tomorrow night. She looked over at their daypacks against the far wall, then back at Michael.
“How much water do you think you can carry? If I carry Jake by myself—”
“Mom, you can’t carry Jake by yourself. You haven’t been able to do that for two years, where’ve you been? We’ll have to wait until his fever’s down and he—”
“We can’t wait.” She looked at her youngest’s thin, lanky body. Maybe if she hoisted him on her back, or if he were able to use the strength he had to hold on tight, they could—
“Why?” Michael said. “Nothing’s changed with Japera. What’s Zuka planning?”
“It’s not Zuka. We need to get out before the police get here. Paul doesn’t trust that—”
“Paul? This is one of Paul’s plans? Mom, come on, the guy’s an idiot.”
“Michael.”
He stared at her without blinking.
“When the police come in they’ll kill Zuka and nobody will care.” Better not mention what would happen to Japera. “But Zuka only gets the world’s attention if we die too. So we have to get out before they get here. We can’t give Zuka a chance to take us out as soon as he sees them coming.”
She looked back at the packs. Maybe if she could carry the water out first, drop it somewhere far from the perimeter, then come back. She and Michael could get Jake out together much faster.
“How do you know the police are coming?”
No good. Getting out once would be enough of a long shot. Expecting to pull it off twice was crazy. She got up and looked out the bathroom window.
“Mom?”
It would be too obvious to leave from straight behind their hut. They’d need to go at a diagonal, but that would mean crossing the stream carrying Jake. The rocks would be slippery, dangerous even for somebody not carrying anything. If—
“Mom? The police?”
“Lorenzo. He must have made it to Harare by now. They’ll be here any day now. We have to get out before—”
“Lorenzo hasn’t gotten to the police.” Michael looked down. “I found him out there.”
“He’s dead?” But she didn’t need an answer. She knew from the way he put it. From the look on his face.
Michael walked in carrying three bowls. He brought them over to where Jane stood crushing the pills into a fine powder.
“Did Japera see you?”
“No, he’s making rounds and will probably circle by in about fifteen minutes.”
“It’s about ready.” She glanced over and saw that his bowl was half full. “Good, I want you to eat with them. And make sure Tommy doesn’t eat any of Paul’s.”
She poured half of the white powder into a bowl, mixed it in, and handed it to Michael. “Remember, Paul’s is in your right hand. Give it to him first. Maybe you should put some of yours into Tommy’s bowl so you’re sure he has enough and he doesn’t take any of his dad’s.”
“Mom, I got it. Don’t worry. You just take care of Zuka. This only works if they’re both out.”
“We can’t use enough to put them out completely, it’ll just make them sick and really sluggish. We have to keep some back to use later.” She looked over at Jake, who seemed to be sleeping soundly.
“Too bad we can’t just get more at the local drugstore.”
She laughed, then stopped. More? Why hadn’t she thought of it before?
Michael waited at the door. “Mom? If Zuka figures out he’s being drugged—”
“I know, Michael. That’s why we’re doing this slowly. And having two get sick will make it more plausible.” She certainly couldn’t count on getting to Lorenzo’s medical kit, and there was no guarantee he’d have anything useful anyway. Yet—
“Mom.” He put down both bowls and sat to face her. “Things could go very bad, very fast, and I need to talk to you about something.”
Jane glanced over at the two bowls. Paul’s was still on the right. “What is it?”
“Mom, if you hadn’t walked in on Dad that day…if you hadn’t seen him. Do you think you could have gotten over it, stayed with him?”
What? They hadn’t talked about this in years. She glanced out the window. She needed to make sure she took Zuka’s bowl to him before he came out of his hut so he wouldn’t see her bringing it from hers.
“I don’t know, honey, that was a long time ago. Maybe. Possibly. People get over these things.” Was this about him and Caitlin?
“So if you’d just heard about it? Maybe it would have ended or you wouldn’t even know for sure?” His voice was trembling now. “Mom, I’m so sorry.”
She looked at him intently, trying to read him. They’d had the usual discussions years ago about how kids often feel responsible for divorce. This was something else.
“Sorry?”
He looked down at the floor of the hut. “Mom, it’s my fault you saw them, that you went home.”
“You were at school, you’d forgotten your lunch.”
“I went home. I saw them first—”
“No.” But even as she talked, she knew he had. “You weren’t allowed to leave school, that’s why you called me.”
“I walked home, okay? I wanted to get it myself. But when I heard them…” He got up, rubbed the sides of his cheeks. “I could’ve just grabbed my lunch and left.” He sat down next to her “I’m so sorry.”
Jane looked at the pain on her son’s face. Torment was more like it. For a long time, apparently.
“Look at me, Michael. It’s not as if it was the first time. And I had no fantasy that it would be the last. It was inevitable, no matter how it came down. What I saw caused me pain, but looked at from another angle, saved me pain.”
“But, Mom, it was selfish. He was always so angry with me—I’m never good enough. I wanted to show him he wasn’t so perfect.” His eyes began to tear. “It was selfish.”
“You were eight, Michael.”
“I’d probably do it today.”
She smiled. “I have no doubt that you’ll eventually figure out your relationship with your dad. He’s a pretty p
owerful guy, but so are you. And selfish? We’re all selfish. We all have impulses, sometimes act on them and regret it later, maybe even learn something, but only maybe—and then struggle with forgiving ourselves.” She made sure she held his eyes. “I never expected anything different from you, Michael.”
He got up, collected the bowls. Without turning he stopped at the door.
“Thanks.”
Jane took a deep breath and hoisted herself through the hole in the canvas. Shelly grabbed her arm and steadied her.
“What a relief to see you.” Shelly hugged her, then sat back down on her cot.
Jane smiled. “How’re you holding up?”
She sighed and kept her eyes fixed on Jane. “I knew it wasn’t you—the shot, I heard you scream and Michael’s voice—but still, it’s good to see you in person.”
Jane looked out the side window. “Can’t see much from here.”
“I raced to the window as soon as I heard them arguing, but it was just out of view.”
“That must’ve been scary.”
“The noise was deafening. I hid in the corner, afraid he might go on a rampage—like I could hide from that.”
Jane continued to scan the grounds. Shelly’s back window faced into the jungle but had long been overgrown by brush. Through this side window she could see the lodge, Changa carrying bags to the kitchen, and part of Japera and Thabani’s porch. But Zuka’s hut was totally obstructed from Shelly’s view and the guest quarters were on the other side of camp. It wasn’t clear what Shelly knew, but she couldn’t have observed anything directly.
“At least they only killed one of their own,” Shelly said.
“I’m afraid they killed our best chance.”
“What do you mean? What about Japera? Jane, I’m sure you could—”
“Not a chance. His reasons for doing this are solid, and nothing’s going to change that.”
“You think? When Zuka killed his cousin—”
“This issue with his brother, actually a promise to his father back in Botswana, seems more important to him than anything else.”