The Daughters of the Darkness

by Luke Phillips

  “It’s not quite Guinness, but it’s cold,” he stated.

  “I could get used to it,” Tiffany smirked.

  They ordered a second round, and then moved onto a pair of boiler makers before Jericho voiced his concerns a second time.

  “Look, I know you’re hardly a novice, but you should seriously think again about taking on the lions around here. I wasn’t kidding about them being partial to people eating.”

  “I can’t turn down the publicity of a Laredo Lion cheerleader taking down an actual lion,” she shrugged. “The show is depending on it. The guns, my truck; everything is sponsored. I need to deliver.”

  “Hunted anything like that before?” Jericho asked after a pause.

  “I’m the youngest person on record to have taken the big five. I was just fifteen when I claimed them. Lion, buffalo, rhino, leopard and elephant all under my belt.”

  “Forgive me,” Jericho sighed, “but hunting in Tanzania isn’t like a safari in South Africa. The bush is harsher, the animals meaner and the hunting harder, as well as being a two way street.”

  “But it’s okay for you to hunt them, is that it?”

  She was smiling, but Jericho knew she was on the defensive now.

  “Not lightly I don’t,” he said. “And, I’m not alone. I’m working with one of the best hunters in the world. We know each other well, and work together even better. We also have a top wildlife biologist in our camp too. You don’t have that advantage. You’re just a paying client to our friend Yul Brynner, wherever he’s disappeared off to.”

  Jericho frowned, realising Tiffany had no idea who Yul Brynner was. Too young even for me he thought. As if on cue, the bald headed guide walked back in through the saloon doors and eyed him menacingly.

  “We’d better get moving. The lions will be lying up in the heat of the day,” he said in a thick Afrikaans accent.

  “You’re going after them now?” Jericho exclaimed. “That’s a terrible idea. You need to set a bait site up and leave it for a good few nights, so you know they’re visiting before you put your client in harm’s way.”

  “We know what we’re doing,” the guide replied.

  Jericho guessed from his accent that he was from Namibia rather than South Africa. He was always slightly suspicious of outfits that crept north into territory like Tanzania. It wasn’t easy hunting, but it was easier getting around the rules. Corruption was rife amidst the local authorities. That was why he was here too after all. He had no permit or jurisdiction to hunt in the country, but he did have cash, and that was all that mattered.

  “Why not come and hunt with us, we could always use another gun. I have a very comfortable tent too I’d be willing to open to your good self,” Jericho offered. “Not to you though,” he added, nodding to the guide.

  “That’s a two way street,” Tiffany replied. “Why not come with us. We could use you too. My tent’s not luxurious, but there’s room for two. As long as we were lying very close together that is,” she purred.

  “I’m tempted darlin, I really am. But I don’t like your set up. And I’m needed back across the border.”

  “Seems like it’s not meant to be,” Tiffany sighed.

  She jumped off the bar stool and kissed him gently on the cheek. As she did so, she slipped a card into the back pocket of his trousers.

  “I’ll be around for a few more days if you change your mind.”

  “Not if the lions have anything to do with it you won’t,” Jericho quipped.

  “That’s enough of the scare mongering, Irish,” snapped the guide.

  Tiffany walked out through the saloon doors, but the bald man lingered. He walked over to Jericho and leant up against the bar to his side.

  “I think it’s time you left too Irish, on your way boyo,” he said, prodding his finger into Jericho’s deltoid, which was as hard as concrete.

  Jericho smiled as he sank the rest of the boiler maker in one fluid movement. He didn’t fail to notice the man’s fingers tighten around the hilt of the belt knife he was wearing.

  “You’ve heard God invented whiskey so the Irish wouldn’t rule the world haven’t yer?” Jericho asked.

  Without waiting for the answer, Jericho kicked away the bald man’s feet, slamming the side of his head into the bar with his left hand. The guide slumped to the floor, dazed, and with a trickle of blood oozing from his right temple. Jericho threw a $50 bill at the bar tender and tipped his hat as he got up.

  “The thing is, I haven’t had enough whiskey yet,” Jericho whispered into the bald man’s ear as he leant down.

  As he left the bar, he saw Tiffany sitting in the driver’s seat of the white Dodge truck. He smiled at her and shook his head at her stubbornness, which he couldn’t help admiring. He climbed into the Warthog and reached into the glove box, his hand on the rhino revolver as he watched the bald man stagger out of the bar and past him. He relaxed as the guide climbed into the truck with Tiffany and they pulled off. Jericho started the engine and reversed out before heading in the opposite direction, still smiling.

  ~

  Tiffany groaned as she checked her phone again. No signal and no connection. That meant no social media, picture messaging or other promotions she was planning. She would have to wait until they got back to the hotel they were staying at in Arusha. The Impala offered a little piece of luxury, civilisation and most importantly, Wi-Fi, amidst the dust, mosquitoes and spicy food; all three of which she blamed for her flighty stomach. At least for the moment they were travelling along the relatively smooth B1 highway, heading south towards Same, where they would turn off and make for the nearby Mkomazi National Park. That’s when the road would get bumpy and she would have to fight to keep her breakfast down. She was hoping the alcohol would help, and so far, it seemed to be doing so.

  They were heading for a private farm on the outskirts of the park, where they had permission to hunt and film. The land owner had been quite clever, planting a good number of shade offering trees in several clusters, all to the north of the property. He kept a few cows and goats, and had sunk a well too, but they and the shade were there to attract what brought in the real money. Wildlife from the National Park often strayed onto the land, with both predator and prey species enjoying the shelter, food and water it offered. Whereas most local farmers received less than the equivalent of $10 for the use of their land, Faraji, the land owner here, charged $150 for the use of his. It was still a small amount compared to the $50,000 billed for most safari hunts, but it easily covered the anticipated losses to his livestock and the expenses of keeping the land primed for the use of hunters. Her guide, Dali, had convinced Tiffany this was the place to go if she wanted a lion. As they turned off the highway and onto the dirt track that would eventually lead to the farm, she hoped he was right.

  ~

  She lay hunkered in the long wisps of grass in the shade of a candelabra tree. The swathe of lush greenery that hid her had been bleached by the sun over the relentless summer, and her pale mottled hide blended into the background almost perfectly. Twenty feet away, a caramel coloured zebu shorthorn cow grazed complacently, blissfully unaware of her presence. Her tail rose like a whip, swatting away some of the black and crystal blue bodied flies swarming her back. The cow raised its head and looked towards the thick clumps of grass for a moment, before going back to the greener shoots at its feet.

  She lifted up onto her haunches and took a silent step forward, nosing through the thickly bladed grass, her ears flat, and whiskers reaching out ahead of her as they registered the waft of warm air breezing in her direction. She froze. Her ears pricked at the distant sounds coming from the stone dwellings where she knew the humans were. The cow heard them too and moved off, the bell around its neck clanging loudly as it lumbered away. She fought the urge to burst from cover and take it down, as was her instinct, and instead stood up fully and watched it go with casual flicks of her tail. She raised her head and issued five short grunts. As she turned towards the stone dwelli
ngs with a soft growl, eight tawny coloured heads appeared out of the grass behind her.

  ~

  Tiffany took the Remington 770 rifle she’d been given as an endorsement for her YouTube channel out of its bag in the bed of the truck. She watched as Dali talked to Faraji. The bald man had his hands on his hips as the Tanzanian farmer pointed to the north. She presumed they were discussing where to set up. She checked the sights along the stainless steel barrel of the gun and the scope. They’d gone to the trouble of finishing the rifle in her favoured camouflage pattern, neatly matching her clothes. She touched up her lip gloss using the side mirror of the truck. At least everything would look good on camera, including her. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed Dali leering at her. Keep dreaming she thought smugly.

  She hauled the camera case and hydraulic tripod out of the truck bed.

  “You can start helping any time you like,” she yelled out to Dali.

  The guide finished talking to the Tanzanian and handed him an envelope that Tiffany guessed contained the payment for use of the property.

  “This is all certified and legal, right?”

  “Of course, don’t worry,” Dali laughed. “I told you I’d look after you.”

  “I mean it. I want to see the permits, everything. I know why we’re here, but hunting close to a National Park could bring down a lot of heat. It’ll be great for publicity, but only if the hunt’s legal.”

  Tiffany already had merchandise in the form of sweat and tee shirts, made up with the mantra ‘hunting is my high and it’s already legal’ emblazoned on it. She knew the hunting of a treasured ‘tourist’ lion near a National Park in Zimbabwe the year before had led to a viral campaign against the rich dentist who had shot it. There would undoubtedly be another outburst amongst the greenies if she bagged a lion under similar circumstances. The only difference was that she anticipated the exposure and planned to put it to good use.

  Dali walked over and picked up the camera case and tripod.

  “Don’t worry. All is in hand and perfectly legal. I have the paperwork right here,” he said, tapping the chest pocket of his shirt. “We don’t even have to go that far. The lions will come to us.”

  Tiffany nodded and began to follow him out towards a cluster of trees to the east.

  ~

  She stopped about thirty yards from the nearest of the stone dwellings. Her nostrils were struck with a frenzy of different scents, and she moved her head slowly from side to side to take them all in. Somewhere to the north, brush was burning, and the particles of soot and carbon made her nose wrinkle. A similar, more chemical odour from the other side of the dwellings irritated her. She recognised it as the breath of the strange metal containers the humans used.

  The first time she had seen a man on a horse, close to where she now lay, she had panicked, mistaking it for a single strange creature rather than two separate ones. She had dared not flee in case it would run her down. But her forced steadiness had allowed her to observe the man dismounting the horse, and the strange wrappings of leather and softer skins they used to ride. Later she had seen cattle harnessed together with dead trees and more leather and skins. She now understood the human ability to use animals in this way and dismissed their comings and goings without concern. Her continued observation had replaced fear with indifference. She had seen them use tools, just like the vervet monkeys and house crows that stayed close to their habitations, but was still cautious when they appeared with something new or unfamiliar.

  The warm air brought to her a waft of jasmine, and she tensed as she caught the human scent clinging to it. The pride had staked out this land many times. They had occasionally taken cattle and goats here, but only at night, when the humans weren’t around and had failed to bring their animals back to the stone dwellings with them. Today was different. The pride had split during the night, some staying north of the river, whilst the majority had crossed it and circled the lake to rest up and drink. Moving after a human kill was something she had learnt to do from her own parents. She remembered being chased and the exploding cracks of the sticks the men carried. She remembered the night her mother had not returned from the hunt. Men killed them and they killed men. She had fled the territory after watching her father die taking on two male lions. She had moved along the coast and gradually in land.

  When she had killed a lioness stranded during a storm with her in marshland, she had discovered a den of cubs close by. It was the first time she had felt a maternal instinct, but it had remained strong since. Three of those cubs now made up some of the number with her today. The fourth had stayed the other side of the river during the night. Their own cubs bolstered the ranks of the pride further. With their numbers scattered though, she felt uneasy and defensive. She settled down again. They had watched the upright apes do this many times. There was still some waiting to be done.

  ~

  Dali showed Tiffany the hunting blind that had been put in place for her. It was little more than a dried up irrigation ditch that had been widened just enough for someone to lie down in. There was a soft mound of earth in front of it that would act as a rifle rest. Once she got comfortable in it, Dali would cover her further with grass and foliage from nearby. The blind was directly opposite a small copse of patchy trees. As they walked over the ground, he pointed out the numerous pug marks and the scratch marks on the trunks of the trees.

  “We’ll call blast from here. The wind is in our favour and Faraji has been keeping the livestock close by for the last few days,” he explained. “You need to be careful though. The pugmarks are lion undoubtedly, but the tree scratches are leopard. You don’t have a permit for a leopard.”

  “So what am I meant to do if one turns up and takes a liking to me?” Tiffany asked.

  “Well you’re a very pretty girl, it’s only natural,” Dali laughed. “But I’ll be covering you from the blind back there.”

  Tiffany showed her contempt to the flippant remark in a scowl, as he pointed to a mound, where a screen of woven sticks and dried grass could just be seen sticking up out of the long grass about a hundred yards away.

  “Best get ourselves into position hey,” Dali suggested. “The afternoon is starting to get away from us and you need to be dug in well before twilight. Have a good long drink, as it’ll be your last for a while. I’ll set up that new toy of yours for the call blasting.”

  Tiffany took the rifle and placed it on the ground in front of her as she lay down in the blind. She rolled her shoulders to loosen her muscles and brought the butt of the gun up. She made herself as comfortable as possible. Dali returned and began to cover her carefully with the material around her in the long grass. She shot him a furious glance at his all too rigorous patting of her buttocks. He gave her a knowing grin in reply. You won’t be smiling when I get up again she thought. She focused instead on making her own modifications to the brush around her head and in front of her; building the mound up until she was satisfied she was completely hidden from view. Dali finished covering the rest of her.

  “Remember, if you need to pee, just do it. But whatever you do, don’t move. The moment they know you are here, they’re gone,” he warned.

  “I’m fine,” she muttered. “Let’s do this.”

  Dali walked back to the trees and turned on the call blaster. It had a remote control, which he pocketed before adjusting the volume to maximum. The screaming calls of a deer fawn in distress boomed from the speakers. The bleating, high pitched sound rolled out across the surrounding savannah as he walked back past Tiffany with a nod of his head, and made his way to the rear blind.

  ~

  She moved slowly through the grass, looping widely to the south of the stone dwellings. She could sense the others, as they followed her movement in a wide spreading arc. After crossing the dirt track they moved more freely, gradually turning north as they swept forward. She came to a halt in the golden swathes of grass, about fifty yards from the mound where she knew a man was hunched, as there often
was. She glanced to her left, noticing the amber eyes of one of her adoptive daughters fixed on her. She dropped her head, signalling her permission for the others to move. They crept forward together as an offensive line through the grass. She banked left, giving away her intention to skirt the first mound. The two sisters to her right converged on it silently. There was now just thirty yards between them and the man they sensed was there. He had positioned himself downwind, but so had they.

  They moved one cautious step at a time. The big female’s ears pricked each time the harsh bleat from up ahead sounded out, but she knew larger and better prey was much closer. She paused, hesitating to move past the mound until she knew the kill had been made. She hunkered down into the straw-like strands and waited.

  ~

  Dali watched in growing boredom. He lifted the binoculars he’d brought with him and lingered as he savoured the view of the curve in Tiffany’s buttocks they afforded him. He dropped the field glasses into his lap and glanced at the rifle leaning up against the blind in front of him. It had only been 45 minutes so far. He couldn’t help letting his mind wander, imagining what the little cheerleader might let him get away with if he plied her with enough alcohol back at the hotel bar. Surely her own boredom would play a part. After all, what else is there to do he thought.

  Suddenly, in his peripheral vision to his left, he thought he glimpsed something white creeping past the blind. As he turned his head, he was smashed to the ground and the breath was knocked from his body. He squirmed as he fought for a lungful of air, but he never took it. There was a clamping pressure at the back of his neck and then the world melted into blackness. As his consciousness slipped away, he thought he felt a pin prick in his legs, but then both it, and he, was gone.