The cat was knocked to the ground as if it had been hit by a speeding truck, dropping Mason from its jaws instantly. As he rolled onto his knees with the last of his strength, he was horrified to hear the lion emit a ferocious hiss as it too found its feet. It slumped to the ground, its legs giving way instantly. But then it began to crawl through the dirt towards him, writhing and clawing its way closer. Mason pumped the gun in a panic, the concentrated glance down it took to do so momentarily distracting him. When he looked up again, he was shocked to find the lioness only a few feet away, teeth bared and still advancing. He was beginning to feel light headed and dazed. He didn’t have the strength to lift the gun and instead balanced it on his thighs. Just as he felt the world begin to spin away, he managed a panicked pull of the trigger that sent a spray of lead straight into the face of the lioness. He slumped over, falling face down into the dirt as he drifted into unconsciousness. The last thing he heard was the huffed last breath of the lioness lying next to him.
As he furiously reloaded, Jericho watched the lion casually dragging Mason towards the bushes. He quickly lined up a spine shot, only to see another lioness trot out from the undergrowth in front of them. He swung the barrels towards the new target and this time made sure of his mark before firing. He saw the bullet hit home before movement to his right made him spin round, gun still raised. Two lionesses were sprinting towards him and Thomas, only seconds away from the spring. The men both fired simultaneously, the deafening shots ringing in their ears and muting the chaos. A cloud of dust sprang up in place of the lions, blinding them too. As the dust swirled in thick cyclonic drifts, Jericho was disorientated by the muffled sound of a shotgun blast. The screeching, monotone chime reverberating in his ears made it sound like it had been fired underwater. Both he and Thomas were frozen to the spot, guns raised, and eyes feverishly searching their limited field of vision.
Thomas felt the thud of his heart begin to slow as the dust began to settle. He could make out the two crumpled forms of the dead cats, sprawled out on the rocky ground where they had fallen, snarls frozen into their faces by the sudden arrival of death. He turned and sprinted towards Mason, Jericho instinctively covering him. As Thomas turned the cameraman over, he could see it was bad. The lioness had raked Mason’s right arm and side viciously with her claws, ripping into the flesh as effectively as oversized fish hooks. The shreds of his shirt were soaked in warm, wet blood that streamed from the wounds. Worse still was his shoulder, torn apart by four inch-wide punctures from the clamp of the lioness’s upper and lower canines.
“There’s a med kit in the car,” Thomas motioned to Jericho, shouldering the rifle and hoisting Mason up from under his arms.
Thomas squatted, allowing Mason to fall over his shoulders as he sprang up, carrying him in a fireman’s lift and snatching up the shotgun as he did so. Balancing Mason by locking his arm over his ankles, he used his other hand to firmly grip the pump of the gun, violently jerking it with a downward thrust of his arm to load. With a flick of his wrist he tossed the Mossberg upwards, catching it by the pistol grip. The weight of the weapon nearly made him overbalance, but he corrected his footing quickly, bringing the barrel up and pointing it ahead of him.
“Show off,” Jericho grumbled. “What exactly was the issue with asking me to do that for yer?”
“It seemed quicker. Get going,” Thomas growled.
Jericho covered from the rear, only ever a few steps behind Thomas, as he scanned the now empty crater. As they entered the trees, Jericho noticed the gathered vultures begin to descend again from the canopy, a sure sign that the predators were not in the immediate vicinity. He didn’t let his guard down, knowing they could just as easily be heading in their direction still. Thomas’s progress was slow as he balanced both gun and Mason. His back and legs were screaming by the time the Big Cat came into view, and he staggered towards it with renewed purpose.
A few yards from the car, Jericho sprinted forward and opened the rear passenger door. Thomas bent down and rolled Mason from his shoulders onto the seats of the rear compartment. Jericho was already rooting in the truck bed for the first aid kit. Finding it, he dashed round to the other side of the car and opened the door, close to where Mason’s head now lay.
They both worked quickly, cleaning the wounds with hydrogen peroxide solution in a quantity that would have had most men screaming with pain. Mason’s limp and silent body only worried Thomas further. They both did what they could with the lacerations and puncture wounds, plugging them with sterile gauze swabs and wrapping them in military field dressings.
“He needs a hospital,” Jericho said, shaking his head.
“Do you know where the nearest one is from here?” Thomas asked.
“No clue,” Jericho shook his head. “Look, I say stick to the plan. You get back to camp as fast as you can. Jelani will know where to take him, and there are better supplies there anyway for you to at least stabilise him. I’ll head out after the poachers. If I find anything, I’ll radio you.”
“And vice versa,” nodded Thomas. “Don’t do anything rash. These guys clearly play rough.”
“So do I. And I’m inclined to, after what these bastards have done,” Jericho spat.
Thomas stretched out his hand. Jericho took it and shook it firmly. There was a playful glint in the Irishman’s eye that made Thomas smile despite the gravity of their circumstances. With a tip of his hat, Jericho turned and strode towards the Warthog. Thomas too kicked into action, jumping into the driver’s seat and starting the Big Cat. With a roar of the V8, he turned the truck around and pressed hard on the accelerator, as he guided it back up the trail with a determined turn of speed. Jericho watched him go in the rear view mirror before he too moved off, in the opposite direction.
~
She moved through the scrub effortlessly. She usually avoided travelling during the day, but the pride had split during the night and now a number of them were missing. The lionesses had called for them in nervous, ranting roars from the kopje where they had rested, but no answer had come. Only she had slipped from the rocks into the maze of thorn bushes, termite mounds and outcrops that lay between there and the waterhole where she knew the others preferred to hunt. She felt more at ease once under the cover of the pale foliage of the acacias. The world around her was painted in mottled shades of blue, brown and mauve, but she instinctively knew she was safer behind the thorns than the slabs of rock and the other trees. They somehow felt different, as if her whole body was more attuned to them. She froze as a startled bush pig jumped up from in front of her and dashed into the scrub. The movement registered in her vision as a flash of iridescence, and she watched the animal disappear, letting it go without further thought. Her instinct and focus were singular.
As the light began to fade she felt less exposed and vulnerable. She began to lope through the scrub. The scent trail the others had laid down was still strong and becoming easier to follow. The waterhole was close now and the warm smell of the trail invigorated her. She felt the anticipation of their presence and began to speed up. Then she froze. Her ears pricked up and she opened her mouth, sharpening her hearing even more acutely. There was a kill ahead. The clamour and bickering of the vultures made her uneasy for some reason in the absence of other sounds. Turning her head allowed her to taste the taint of blood in the air.
An angry growl escaped her throat before she hunkered down into the long grass. She listened intently before moving forward, crawling on her belly to the edge of the trees. Her muscles hardened and tightened in readiness as she rose a few inches for a better view. The vultures were everywhere, fighting angrily for their place at the banquet table. The elephant carcasses were being ignored in favour of the fresher, more easily accessed meat suddenly on offer. She now knew the warm scent of the others and that of the blood came from the same source.
She burst from cover in a spring of pent up savagery she could no longer contain. She barrelled into the first group of vultures, who had been too s
low to react to the roar that had erupted from her as she charged. Her front paws swatted at the two nearest birds in hammer blows that drove their crushed heads into the dirt. Her jaws snapped around the torso of a lappet-faced vulture, beating its wings in panic as it tried to take to the air in vain. As she bit down, its struggles instantly ceased and she spat out its lifeless body in a blood-lust fuelled snarl. Slashing swipes of her claws brought down another two vultures before the others were out of reach and back in the safety of the trees again.
She patrolled the crater with wrathful shakes of her head, issuing grunt-like snarls of warning to the gathered scavengers. She paced from one body to another, revisiting the fallen lionesses several times. Two she licked at the faces of, and rubbed with her chin and cheek. Her attentions became more frantic and violent as they remained cold and still to her touch. She lay nose to nose with one of her adopted daughters, her hot wet breath lashing the snout and whiskers of the dead cat. She lay statue-like, unable to judge the amount of time that had passed. She only moved again when a white-backed vulture decided to investigate her own still body. She extinguished its life as if swatting a fly.
That was when the other scent came to her on a wisp of breeze from the east. She paused at the pool of blood a few feet from one of the lionesses. She licked at the congealed liquid, instantly recognising the salty, coppery taste. She lifted her head, staring across to the other side of the crater. Her shoulders pumped hard as she skirted the waterhole, eagerly following the scent. She slipped through the trees until she came to a larger opening on the edge of the forest. The air was now tainted with sulphur and carbon, the meaning of which she recognised. She looked out across the plain to the south, towards the place where the men and their soft-sided dwellings were. As the sun began to set, painting the landscape in hues of pink and crimson, she broke into a run towards the camp.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Thomas slammed on the brakes as he passed the main entrance to Anga ya Amani, sliding to a violent halt just outside his own tent and throwing up a cloud of red dust. He sounded the horn in three long blasts before kicking open the door and jumping out. Jelani had been sitting out on the kopje and was at his side in an instant. He froze when he saw Mason’s wounds.
“My friend, what happened?” Jelani stammered.
“He took a hit from a lioness. We followed Catherine’s trail to a small patch of woodland where we found two elephant carcasses. I don’t know if that’s what brought the lions in or if they were already there,” Thomas explained.
“Elephant carcasses?”
“Poachers. Jericho is on their trail now. They may have also taken Catherine, but we can’t be sure. We need to get Mason stabilised and to a hospital.”
“The nearest one is in Voi, about thirty miles away.”
“Would you be able to take him?” Thomas asked.
“The trucks and the men are still out searching for Miss Catherine. I don’t think we can wait around until they get back,” Jelani answered, shaking his head.
Thomas passed him the keys to the Big Cat, grabbing his bag and rifle from the passenger seat.
“I’m going after Catherine, and I need to speak to Musa if I’ve got any hope of finding her. Take the Cat. It’s the fastest option anyway.”
“I understand my friend,” Jelani nodded. “I will see if there is anything I can do to make Mr. Mason more comfortable before I leave.”
“Thank you,” Thomas nodded, turning to head towards the staff camp.
“Don’t underestimate Kanu,” Jelani called after him. “He’s bad business, bokor or otherwise.”
“I know. Watch your own back too.”
Thomas hurried down the path towards the staff tents. It was eerily quiet, the normal clamour and bustle of camp life noticeably absent. The silence was broken by the sound of the Big Cat’s engine roaring into life as Jelani headed out. Thomas stopped outside the tent Musa had been given. He couldn’t help but notice it was the one the lions had cleared out only a few days before. He could still smell the disinfectant that laced the canvas walls, and the bleach that had been used to remove the blood stains. He parted the doors slightly with a little pressure from his middle and index finger to peek inside. Musa was sitting on the bed, clearly aware of his presence and watching him. Thomas smiled, pushing the flap of the door aside and stepping into the tent.
“Hello Musa, how are you doing?” Thomas asked.
“Good Bwana, I’m okay. I feel much better,” Musa answered.
Musa sat on his camp bed, his feet tucked beneath him and his arms wrapped around his knees, pulling them tightly into his chest. He watched Thomas with wide unblinking eyes in the way a gazelle watches a leopard out in the open. The boy was fearful and didn’t trust him. Thomas wondered if he thought he was there to kill him. Surely the failure of his attempt would earn him a considerable punishment in Kanu’s camp, perhaps even death Thomas thought. He clearly expected to still be punished for his forced part in Amanda’s death. Thomas slid the rifle from his shoulder carefully, and deliberately rested it up against the wall of the tent. He did the same with his bag. Thomas took a seat on the neatly made empty camp bed opposite Musa.
“Musa, I know you feel that you were somehow involved in my wife’s death,” Thomas said, resting his elbows on his knees as he leant forward gently. “It wasn’t you who killed her, it was the lioness, this so-called queen. I don’t blame you at all.”
Tears immediately welled in Musa’s eyes. They began to stream down his cheeks uncontrollably as he nodded his head in silence. Thomas went to pick up a bottle of water from the small bedside cabinet beside them, but paused. He smiled and instead opened the drawer of the cabinet. Inside, as he suspected, was a hidden stash of cans of Coke and sweets. Jelani had a real weakness for them, especially the fizzy drinks. Thomas had correctly guessed that Jelani had moved into the tent, offering his own to the remaining men, who would have been hesitant to stay in accommodations marked by the man-eaters. He took one of the cans of Coke and handed it to Musa, who took it readily. Thomas knew only too well that such things were often used as rewards for child soldiers. Jelani’s own past was reflected in his freedom to consume them as an adult, and the pleasure he took from it. Thomas had seen the white scars on Musa’s skin whilst he had been treated the night before, little rice-like flecks against the dark flesh.
“Musa, you telling me what happened to Amanda is something I have wanted to know for a very long time,” Thomas assured him. “I feel very proud of her and what she did. And you were very brave to tell me. I feel that I can finally be at peace about what happened. Thank you for giving me that. But I need to ask you to give me something else too.”
“Yes Bwana,” Musa nodded eagerly.
“Catherine, the woman who is to be my new wife – I think Kanu has taken her. I need to go after her. I need you to tell me where his camp his. Do you think you’d be able to show me on a map?”
Musa nodded again, much more slowly this time. Thomas quickly went to his bag and took out a map. He unfolded it and spread it out on the bed in front of Musa.
“This is where we are now,” Thomas showed him, pointing to where the camp was marked on the map towards its south-east corner. “This is the village where I killed the leopard,” Thomas said, moving his finger directly south. “Where will I find Kanu?”
Musa studied the map. He used his finger to trace the path of the road that led east out of the village. He paused at a junction, where one path looped back around the hills towards Anga ya Amani. Instead, his eyes darted further across the map. He dragged his finger along the road further east. At a point marked as the Mavia Maiu rocks, Musa’s finger shot away from the road at a sharp angle, now following a series of craggy outcrops. It finally came to rest in the centre of a marshland fed by the Galana River. Thomas could see it was surrounded by arid scrubland with no direct access by road. The wildcat king would be able to see anyone trying to approach from any direction, although he noticed the
river offered a little more cover and protection. He could follow it in to the camp possibly.
“This is where I’ll find Kanu?” Thomas asked.
Musa nodded.
“Thank you Musa,” Thomas nodded. He began to put the map away.
“You go alone?” Musa asked.
“For now, but Jericho and the others hopefully won’t be far behind,” Thomas replied. “I’m not looking for a confrontation, just hoping to sneak in and get her back.”
“That’s good. They not see you coming on your own. If you follow...”
“The river,” Thomas said, nodding in agreement.
Musa smiled. “The rocks are high, and the marsh grass is too.”
“Good to know. Will you be alright with the others away?”
“Yes. I am pleased. Pleased I could help.”
“I’m pleased too Musa. Try to get some rest.”
Thomas picked up his rifle and bag and headed out of the tent, walking back up the trail towards the kopje. He slipped behind the kitchen tent to a small clearing where the ATVs were parked. He walked past them to the Triumph scrambler, brushing away the layer of red dust that had accumulated on its coffee coloured petrol tank. He made sure the gun was pulled tight across his back before putting on the rucksack, further securing the rifle. He straddled the bike, starting it with a deft kick and a flick of the ignition. With a quick glance upwards, he noticed the darkening sky and switched on the big headlight at the front of the bike. He twisted the throttle and raced through the camp, heading down the track back towards the staff area. He passed Musa’s tent with a quick glance, catching the gleeful eyes of the boy as he did. Then he was out into the grassland, cutting a path through the long swathes of greenery towards his destination.
The Daughters of the Darkness Page 31