“Okay, wrong word maybe,” Thomas replied, squeezing her waist affectionately. “I’m just worried that you’re not quite yourself. And that’s bad for me, as I’m sort of in love with you if you haven’t noticed.”
“You do hide it well sometimes,” she mocked, but she rested her head on his for a moment and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “So are you going to tell me why you’re staring at a map like it’s a magic-eye puzzle?”
“Jelani said something yesterday about the border of the pride’s territory. He said they don’t venture east past this hill here, where we found tracks of two males.” He pointed to a set of contours on the map. “But that’s not true; they have appeared almost a mile further east on several occasions, often when they’ve been pursued. One of the reasons the local villagers think they are demons is because they will suddenly appear on the other side of the river, with nobody knowing how. I’m looking for a logical explanation, but I can’t see where they can cross. The gorge is very deep there.”
Catherine leaned forward and studied the area Thomas had pointed to. She could see green crosses marked in biro where the lions had been reported, and red ones cataloguing their recent attacks. It was clear the pride avoided the hill and the high ground to the north and east. But just as Thomas described, sightings and attacks were marked again just over a mile down river.
“What kind of rock makes up the gorge?” Catherine asked, not looking up.
“I think it’s mainly volcanic, scoria basalt if my geology isn’t too rusty,” Thomas replied.
“But also granite too right, this lovely red dust coating everything must come from somewhere?”
“There’ll be sandstone in there as well I’m guessing, but I think I see where you’re going with this,” he said, leaning forward.
They both gazed over the map. Catherine followed the course of the river with her finger, past the hill, where it wound north and east then doubled back to the south again. She paused at a point where the river seemed to widen, not far from where a new grouping of green and red crosses emerged. There was no bend in the river to explain the widening of the channel. She’d learnt to read maps like this as she had progressed with her climbing, looking for clues in the topography that would reveal possible routes and hidden dangers. She looked at Thomas, her eyes flickering with excitement. He caught a hint of smugness too, and he smiled back.
“There’s a cave system there, probably a series of lava tubes. They’re not crossing the river; they’re going over or under it.” Catherine stated.
“You think they’ve taken up spelunking as well as man-munching?” Thomas exclaimed.
“Yes I do as it happens, and less of the sarcasm. I know I’m right,” she mocked confidently.
“Well at least you now know how I feel most of the time,” Thomas laughed.
“See how easy things are when I’m involved,” she taunted. “Why don’t we go and check it out?”
Thomas paused, torn for a moment. He was happy she was acting more like herself, and he did want her to be more involved. He knew they worked best as a team, and that perhaps Jericho being around had overshadowed that. But he also didn’t want her exposed to the danger of encountering the pride so directly. Her smile was infectious though, and he knew he’d be in real danger if he even suggested something along the lines of the survival scenario sexism he was considering. He also wasn’t a very good climber, and he knew he might need her help navigating through any cave system they happened to discover.
“We’ll take the ATVs,” he said, giving in and trying to hide the accompanying reluctant sigh. “There are some narrow trails, and the Big Cat won’t be able to get up into the rocks, but they might.”
They made their way back to the tent hand in hand, where they changed and packed their gear into backpacks. Thomas watched as Catherine threw in a chalk bag and a couple of head torches, as well as the binoculars Thomas had given her. They both grabbed baseball caps and sunglasses before they stepped back outside.
Thomas walked over to the gun rack, putting on the shoulder holster for the Colt Anaconda and tucking it out of sight beneath his safari vest. He filled one of the outer pockets with ammo. He knew Catherine already had the Smith & Wesson tucked away in her pack, keeping it with her just as he had asked her to. He passed her the Marlin rifle before picking up his own and shared out some rounds for each.
They stopped off to see Mansa in the kitchen tent, as they strolled back past. He provided them with two large canteens of water, a large sealed plastic bag of biltong jerky, and another with some dried sliced pineapple and mango. Thomas and Catherine packed them away and then headed over to the ATVs. He showed Catherine how to clip her rifle into the mount on the front of the all-terrain vehicle, a Can-Am Outlander XT-P, as she secured her pack to the rear rack. He then did the same to his own ATV, the exact same model as Catherine’s and sporting matching black and orange paintwork.
Thomas threw his leg over the broad saddle and made himself comfortable. He gave Catherine a grin as he turned the key and twisted the throttle in one fluid motion. The 1,000cc engine roared to life instantly, and he let it rip as he tore away down the track, momentarily pulling the front wheels up into a wheelie as he gunned it. Moments later, he heard Catherine’s ATV approaching from behind on his left. He turned to look, catching a glimpse of her, shaking her head disapprovingly.
Catherine followed Thomas as he turned south-east, along the same game trail he had traversed the morning before. It was only a little after ten, but already the air was thick with heat and a bead of sweat ran down her forehead, forming into a droplet as it perched on the bridge of her glasses. The ATV bucked slightly as it hit a dip, and the jolt sent the bead cascading down the lens on the right side. She shook her head slightly to clear her vision. As the trail opened up ahead, she hit the accelerator again to catch up with Thomas. He pumped his hand up and down to slow her down as she drew alongside. They trundled to a stop, the ATV engines idling quietly as Thomas pointed into the bushes.
She couldn’t quite see it, but she could certainly smell it. Thomas shut down the engine of his ATV as he climbed off, and Catherine followed suit. He led her into the scrub and pulled the Colt Anaconda from its holster as he approached the carcass of the young male. He opened the cylinder and began to feed the 44 magnum shells from his pocket into the empty chambers. He and Catherine weren’t the only ones interested in the carcass. A lone hyena removed its bloody snout from a tear along the lion’s stomach and looked at them, indifferent to their presence. Thomas pointed the revolver into the air and fired a single shot. The reddish-brown back of the hyena rippled as it snarled, before the animal scampered into the thickly knotted scrub of the thorny acacias surrounding them. Thomas nodded to Catherine to go ahead.
After twenty-four hours in the sun, and having attracted the attention of vultures, jackals, hyenas and even smaller opportunists like honey badgers and mongoose, the split hide, splintered bones and pink sinewy flesh they’d left barely resembled a lion. Catherine knelt close to the carcass, holding her nose to protect against the putrid stench it emanated. Little flurries of black and green jewel-backed flies lifted off the taught, torn skin, invading its interior with a loud and droning buzz that never seemed to stop.
Thomas pointed out the dried blood around the fleshy wounds to the neck and skull. He could see from her wide-eyed expression that she too was surprised by the suggested size of the weaponry that inflicted the damage.
“Are you sure it wasn’t one of the big males you were talking about?” Catherine asked. “I’ve never heard of a lone female killing a male. They just don’t have the size or strength.”
“I’m sure the pugmarks were that of a female,” Thomas nodded. “Jelani called her a queen yesterday, and I know when we encountered them seven years ago, the pride was thought to be mainly made up of lionesses, if not entirely.”
“Was she leading the pride then too?” Catherine asked.
Thomas nodded solem
nly and looked away.
“Do you think she was the one that killed Amanda?”
“I imagine they all played their part, but I figure she took the lion’s share of the blame, if you’ll forgive the pun,” Thomas replied, choking out a dry, violent laugh. “Sorry, I still don’t like talking about it,” he admitted, “and I know we don’t talk about it enough.”
“It’s okay,” she reassured him. “I’m just worried you carry it around with you. You’re probably the strongest man I know, but even you can’t bear that kind of weight indefinitely.”
He smiled weakly. “Guess that’s why we’re here,” he replied.
“Then let’s get to it,” Catherine replied positively.
They carefully made their way back through the brush to the ATVs and continued on their way, following the trail as it skirted around the hill that marked the border of the pride’s territory. Thomas glanced up to the lone baobab, half expecting to see the silhouette of one of the males keeping vigil from their outpost. But he and Catherine were alone for now it seemed. The lions had moved on.
Thomas remembered tracking mountain lions whilst in Wyoming in the United States. In particular, he recalled a large tom he’d nicknamed Silver, after Long John Silver from Treasure Island, due to an injury that made the cat drag his left hind paw slightly. It made Silver somewhat easier to track than some of the other mountain lions in the same area. Like all predators that maintained a territory, Silver moved around so as not to exhaust the prey in any one area, and to show he was patrolling regularly. The cat had travelled in a rough figure of eight, covering his entire territory once every seven days or so. He wondered if the lions did something similar, and if so, if their wanderings could be predicted or even intercepted. He decided to make a mental note to try and pick up the trail on the other side of the maze of rocks, even over a day old as they were. They still might lead somewhere.
Lost in his thoughts, Catherine had crept ahead of him a little. He smiled as he sat up in the saddle and twisted the throttle. As he began to accelerate, the rumble of the exhaust was answered by something in the bush off to the left. Thomas twisted his head in the same direction to try and pinpoint from what, and where, the noise was coming from. The strained bellow that rose up out of the thorns confirmed it. He caught a glimpse of tough black hide as it shuffled off. The Cape buffalo made grumbling, ranting snorts as it left. Thomas let out a sigh of relief as he passed, glad that one of Africa’s most disagreeable residents hadn’t taken an interest in them. Then he realised the buffalo had trundled to a stop.
Watching him as he passed, Thomas caught the eye of the buffalo as it expelled a sticky, mucus-drenched breath from its nostrils. It lifted its head, exposing the fused boss of its horns, their curved and deadly tips over a yard apart. Time seemed to stand still, but then the buffalo lurched to the right, crashing through the undergrowth with the momentum of a wrecking ball. Thomas could see the buffalo was on an intercept course with Catherine’s ATV, cutting through the thorny acacias and scrub at a steep angle straight towards her. He gunned the throttle, tearing along the track, whilst relying on the buffalo’s focus on Catherine to make up some of the distance in safety.
As the black mass of muscle burst into the open, Catherine caught sight of it too. She hadn’t heard it over the sound of her engine. Instinctively she hit the gas, speeding up. The buffalo kept coming, close enough now for her to feel the thunderous strike of its hooves as they smashed into the trail alongside her. The animal’s stink hit her nostrils just before the beast itself veered towards her in a broadside charge. Catherine hurled herself from the saddle of the ATV, crashing into the underbrush in a cloud of thick red dust. Moments later, the buffalo collided with the black and orange frame of the 4x4, throwing it up into the air before sending it cart-wheeling into the scrub beside her. The engine screamed for a moment as the throttle caught, before spluttering into lifeless silence as the upended wheels kicked and spun in the air.
Thomas juddered to a halt and snapped his rifle up from the front of his ATV. He could see the shiny black back of the buffalo as it began to pace at the side of the trail, its poor eyesight struggling to find its target in the spray of dust. Thomas jumped off the ATV and took a few quick paces to his left to get a better line on the buffalo. As he stepped out onto the trail, the buffalo raised its head again, catching his scent and proclaiming its disgust with an angry snort. Thomas fed a three-and-a-half-inch long brass round into the chamber of the rifle, and took careful aim through the scope. The buffalo was a big bull, nearly eleven feet long and easily 2,000lbs. He lined up the crosshairs about a third of the way up the chest, directly between the front legs. As the bull snorted again and took a step forward, Thomas squeezed the trigger and felt the slam of the rifle against his shoulder, as the 480-grain projectile rocketed towards its target at 2,375 feet per second. There was a wet slap as bullet met flesh, and Thomas lowered the rifle knowing that his shot had smashed into the buffalo with the same power as a racing truck, wrecking the top of the heart where all the major blood vessels connected, before blowing out its lungs for good measure. Only, that’s not what happened.
Thomas watched, absolutely stunned as the buffalo stared him down. He saw the fixed gaze of the bull turn from defiant challenge, to deathly, blood curdling rage. As a stream of claret coloured blood and gore spilled from the hole in its chest, the bull stumbled forward into a charge, coming at Thomas like a jet-black missile. The ground seemed to shake as the enraged bovine thundered closer and Thomas raised his rifle again, feeding in a second round. Aiming slightly from the side, Thomas made a snap decision and lined up the sights behind the lowered head of the bull. As it bore down on him, he let off the second shot. It smacked into the buffalo’s spine, splintering and severing the bone and nerve column it found there. Thomas rolled out of the way as the bull slumped to the floor, rolling precariously onto its back with its carried momentum. He watched in disbelief as the tumbling corpse smashed into the front of his ATV, crushing the radiator and front suspension as if they were paper, before it flopped to the side in a lifeless slump. He let out a deep sigh before turning around to see what had become of Catherine.
She stood at the side of the trail, dusting herself off. As he ran to her, he could see she had some nasty gashes to her legs and arms, and a shiny red welt on the side of her head. She managed a weak smile as she replaced her dust encrusted cap and pulled at a few stray tufts of her red hair.
“Well I can’t say you’re as good as new, but are you okay?” Thomas asked, concerned.
“I’ll live, I think,” she shrugged.
“I’d say he definitely lost his sense of humour about something, wouldn’t you?” Thomas said, looking back at the bull.
“What happened?” Catherine asked. “Did you miss?”
“No,” Thomas replied, a little defensive. “Hit him square in the thumper. I’ve heard stories of Cape buffalo having enough adrenalin and oxygen to cover a hundred yards or so after a heart shot, but that’s certainly the first time I’ve ever experienced it. It certainly adds weight to the saying that there’s more lead in the buffalo than the mines around here.”
“Do you just attract dangerous animals?” she laughed, wincing slightly. She lifted her T-shirt to reveal a cluster of emerging blue and purple bruises along her side.
“You tell me – you’re the one marrying me remember?” he joked softly, kissing her gently on the cheek. “Let’s head back and get you seen to. Especially as it looks like we’re walking.”
“No, let’s keep going. It shouldn’t be far now, and it’s just cuts and bruises. I’ve had worse,” Catherine protested.
“Only if you’re sure,” Thomas agreed. He could already see her mind was made up.
Thomas retrieved Catherine’s rifle from the wrecked ATV and checked it over. It seemed fine, and he slung it over his shoulder along with his own. As he looked back at the dead buffalo, he took out a magazine cartridge from one of his pockets and filled it wi
th five bullets to reload just in case.
They walked along the narrowing trail, Thomas leading the way with regular glances back to check on Catherine. She smiled reassuringly the first few times, but began to wave his attentions away with a shake of the head, and muttering under her breath as it became a little overbearing. In the end, he gave in, and focused on the path ahead. He noticed they had gained a little height as they had trekked along, and he could now see and hear the river a little off to their right and below. As it curved away to the south, they found themselves confronted with a wall of dark volcanic rock, peppered with vesicles.
“That’s a good sign,” commented Catherine, catching her breath.
“What, that the trail’s come to an end?” Thomas asked.
“Nice try handsome,” she mocked. “I mean that the rock’s porous. Water can find its way through. And you know we’re climbing up to check it out, so don’t play dumb. I appreciate you’re looking out for me, but knock it off.”
“Yes Ma’am,” Thomas replied reluctantly.
She thumped him in the ribs with her elbow as she passed. The scramble up to the top wasn’t difficult. From there, Catherine could see it expanded to the north, waves of lava frozen in time and turned to stone, only revealed after millions of years of erosion to create a rippling and uneven surface. Just as she had suspected, fissures and cracks riddled the rock, some going quite deep. She began to hop from one plate of stone to another, exploring the gullies in between and where they led. A little way across she stopped, and waved Thomas over.
They peered into a dark passage some six feet square and leading down. They both bagged their sunglasses as Catherine knelt and took out the head torches, passing one to Thomas. He hesitated at the entrance. A warm breeze came from within, bringing with it a scent. It was a dense, musk-like odour. It reminded him of dry hay bales that had begun to rot at their bottom with damp. It was the unmistakable calling card of a lion. He placed a restraining hand on Catherine’s shoulder and edged past her, slipping her rifle from his shoulder and passing it over as he did so. As he stepped into the shadows, he flicked on the head torch and brought his own rifle up. They stood looking into the mouth of a cave. The only path led down into the darkness.
The Daughters of the Darkness Page 13