the Disappearance of Jonathan Bloom

by Martin Sowery

  Julian didn´t feel any great sense of reluctance about this change of detail. He could still remember some of the thrill that had surged through him as he´d bashed in Bloom´s skull. It had been a good feeling, of power and exhilaration; that had been over too quickly. Afterwards it had felt like he could do anything in the world: in fact he still had some of that feeling now.

  The plan would involve some inconvenience for Julian. Some might even call it dangerous, but Julian didn´t see it that way. Self-doubt was something that he only experienced by seeing it affect other people. And in any case, the discomfort he might suffer would be better than what might happen if Bloom´s people ever had any reason to suspect that he had their money.

  There was an emergency pack in the trailer and Julian had already had Andrew Parker, the supposed expert on all things African, explain to him what the contents were and how they might be useful. Julian had a compass of his own and a good map in his bag and he´d studied the terrain in advance. A less self-confident man might be daunted by the prospect of a three day hike to relative civilization, but Julian only imagined it as an extension of the outward bound summer camps that his school had used to organize for boys who weren´t going on holidays with their parents at the end of summer term.

  Julian had no doubt at all of his ability to walk out of the bush, but just in case his navigation should be a little awry, he intended to make his way out to the east. He´d make for the three famous hills that he´d seen in photographs, rising steeply out of this flat landscape like the remains of giant pyramids. Supposedly they were formed from the lava plugs of ancient volcanoes whose sides had eroded, but anyway they made a landmark that he´d see a day before he reached it.

  Those hills were in all the tourist guides. He knew that there was a visitor centre too. He´d arrive there with a story about his car breaking down, if he needed to say anything at all. Nothing too specific. The details would come to him when he needed them.

  It was a good plan, he thought; simple, foolproof and quick. Julian had enjoyed a hearty breakfast as the day brightened. Thinking things over, he had decided that he liked the sense of freedom and emptiness in this continent. He´d come back here to enjoy at his leisure when the current business was out of the way, most certainly.

  Now they were underway and Parker was still complaining about his missing gadget. No one took any notice and eventually he shut up. They settled into the lurching, bumping roll of the truck that had a kind of rhythm of its own once you got used to it.

  Seating positions were established by strict rotation, so that everyone got to share the discomfort of the back row, the relative ease of the middle, and the best views that you had at the front. This meant that Julian had a good excuse not to sit next to Emma, who would be watching his movements too closely today. They had exchanged a few meaningless words before the start that morning and he´d treated her to a smile that he judged tender enough for what they had shared. He´d received her own simpering, happy grin in response. Women were so quick to think they owned you, if you gave them the chance; and Julian always found that their fascination wilted horribly quickly once he’d had them. They were like flowers that dried up in the night, leaving him looking for fresh blooms to pluck.

  Julian had set his place alongside the Johnsons as part of establishing his role as a team player who accepted tedium without complaint. For the first part of the day the three of them were on the back seat, where the bench was higher and bounced about more. In order that you could see anything, the seat was raised so high that you had to rest your feet on an iron bar that protected the water and food containers stored on the floor beneath. There wasn´t sufficient leg room for Julian, though the old people were so short and shriveled up that they had more than enough.

  In the back, the sun beat upon the half of your body that was exposed; unless you had the middle seat, which was reserved to Mrs. Johnson. The wind battered you unhindered by the front windscreen. On the plus side, conversation was next to impossible at the speed they were travelling just now, so Julian was left alone with his thoughts.

  At around eleven, with the sun high above, they stopped for a comfort break and to rotate the seating. Those who had been in the back moved up one place closer to the prime space behind the driver and guide. Kriegman told them something more about the country they had been travelling through and what they could expect to see further on. This was mostly a transit day, he warned them, and they shouldn’t expect to see too much. Julian smiled; he had other ideas about that.

  By one thirty they were in need of food and another break. Michael steered them off the track and into the notional shade of the only tree around that was of any size: it stood naked and leafless, alone in the flat plain with no apparent sign of life. A cold buffet lunch was spread out on the bonnet of the Land Cruiser. George took a photograph of the party with the dead tree in the background and desolation all around. Everyone was in the frame except Julian who happened to bend out of shot to take something from his pack just as the picture was taken.

  The lunch things were swept into a plastic bag for later disposal, and then they were ready to go on again. They would make good time from here on, Kriegman told them, even if the country was empty. The final rotation of the day put Julian and the old couple on the front bench. After the lunch everyone took their appointed places with some reluctance and stretching of stiff joints. Then Michael fired the engine and slipped the truck into gear and their journey resumed once more.

  ***

  Jill Stevens was daydreaming to the lurching progress of the offroader as they bumped and skated their way through the sand and dust. The effect of sun and lunch was lulling her into a pleasant stupor, even if the movement was more fairground ride than luxury cruise. This day was monotonous, but a part of her awareness remained focused on the landscape, experiencing it even as her thoughts drifted. She felt happier in this country, even with nothing happening and a certain amount of physical discomfort, than she would have been at home with all her possessions around her.

  She knew this feeling of just being in the place from previous visits. There was something about Africa that felt like returning to a home that you never knew existed. Maybe it was like that for all humans. Just being under this sky gave her a contentment that was different to anything she experienced in Europe, where it seemed that every good thing came bundled with unwanted complications.

  Jill was sitting in the back of the Land Cruiser, next to Emma, with George squeezed in at the far side of them. She´d decided that she liked George. He usually had something sharp and witty to say but he never needed to be unkind about it.

  Emma was nice too, but she was too obviously on the lookout for a man. Jill was afraid for Emma that she would make an embarrassment of herself over one of the men. Well, not one of them; it was clear enough that she´d set her sights on the handsome one, Jonathan Bloom. In fact, Jill wasn´t sure that something hadn´t happened between them already. She reminded herself that it was none of her business. Jonathan seemed nice enough as well. He certainly was good looking. It was just that Jill couldn´t believe he would really consider Emma as more than a bit of holiday fun. He didn´t seem like the serious type at all; but then maybe that was what Emma was looking for, like she´d said.

  Jill couldn´t really believe that though. Although she and Emma were very different, they´d shared the time on the flight together and now they were sharing a tent. Of course they´d talked about everything; even some carefully worded details of Jill´s own romantic entanglement. Jill had met girls like Emma before on other trips: intelligent women with qualifications and a good career who´d been too busy pursuing their life plans to learn how to manage men until they were already at an age where they were supposed to know it all and they could no longer practice the rules of attraction like young girls did; at least not without being frowned upon by other women. Girls like Emma were looked down on by wives who´d think her a silly flirt at best; and maybe even a threat.<
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  Jill thought that Emma was bright and had a good heart. It was just that she didn´t know how to give out signals without being obvious about it. Jill herself had quickly passed from being irritated by Emma´s clumsy social skills to feeling sorry for her and worrying in case she made herself look ridiculous.

  Now Jill took a quick glance at Emma and saw that she was sitting with her eyes fixed on Jonathan Bloom, ignoring the landscape; a big silly smile on her face. The expression told her more than words could. They´ve done it already, somehow, Jill thought. How did they manage that? She hoped for Emma´s sake that it would turn out to be worth the bother.

  Jill tried to settle back into her own daydreams; but then something very strange happened. Mr. Kriegman, in the front passenger seat, muttered something to Michael and then he stood up and started to turn round to face them, as he normally did when he had some information to give them. But just as he turned, Jonathan Bloom, who was sitting directly behind him, stood up as well. Jill saw that Jonathan passed his right arm in front of Mr. Kriegman, doing something that she couldn´t see and pulling the guide towards him, off balance. Mr. Kriegman looked surprised and opened his mouth but without saying anything. Jonathan Bloom didn´t say anything either, but his other arm reached for Kriegman´s shoulder and dragged him violently to the side. He must have been very strong to do it, because Mr. Kriegman was a heavy man, but Jonathan Bloom pulled him up over the side of the vehicle and he toppled down into the dust. Jill looked back for a second and saw his body lying face down, twisted up and still.

  They all lurched forward in their seats as Michael slammed on the brakes: well not quite all. Jonathan Bloom had been ready for the deceleration and now Jill saw that he´d stepped into the space left by Mr. Kriegman.

  Keep driving, was all he said.

  But Jill could see now that he was holding a knife against Michael´s neck. It looked like one of the meat knives they´d been using to do the cooking. She could see that it was covered with blood. They had to do something quickly, but what?

  Faster, Bloom commanded.

  Julian knew that he had moments before anyone reacted. A few seconds later he grabbed the wheel with the hand that was not holding the knife and wrenched it towards him. The vehicle ran up the bank and into one of the few trees that grew in this place. The tree was no match for the Land Cruiser and timber splintered as the vehicle ground to a halt with the front end riding up over the remains of the trunk and the back sunk deeply into the sand.

  The impact banged Jill´s head against the bench in front of her. When she recovered vision she saw Michael leaning back in his seat with his head rolled to the side at an unnatural angle. His mouth and eyes were wide open and there was a lot of blood coming out of a deep wound in his neck.

  The engine had stalled and for a brief moment there was silence. Jonathan Bloom had taken the keys from the ignition and he was opening the glove compartment. He took something from it and when he showed them his hand he was holding a tiny pistol. He seemed absolutely calm, though neither Jill nor any of the others could speak or think just at that moment.

  I don´t mean to shoot any of you, but you can be sure I shall if you make me, Bloom told them. Sit where you are, put your hands on the seat in front of you where I can see them, and don´t move. Keep facing forward.

  They did as they were told. Bloom clicked the catch beside the driver that opened the bonnet and then climbed down from the vehicle. He inspected the front of it briefly before taking a look under the hood. Then, after reminding them to stay exactly as they were, he disappeared to the rear of the Cruiser. No one looked round. They heard him shuffling some things out of the trailer, and then the tailgate was opened. Minutes went by. No one else moved and no one spoke. The heat was unbearable.

  Next they heard the sound of liquid gurgling out and spilling onto the sand and after that Bloom reappeared, carrying his expedition backpack with his sleeping bag and some plastic containers of water strapped to the outside of it. He´d emptied the contents of the emergency pack and some other useful items into his bag after discarding what he didn´t expect to need. He had an old fashioned metal canteen slung over one shoulder. Bloom walked to the front of the Cruiser and stood on the running board where they could all see him.

  Front offside tyre is punctured, he announced. I thought the radiator would be burst at least, but they make these things tough. I´ve cut the oil line though, so I wouldn´t waste time trying to dig her out.

  He lifted the little receiver of the two way radio off its cradle and smashed it into the dash where it shattered into pieces; all the time making sure that the gun in his other hand remained visible to them.

  Just in case, he said. And there´s no reception here anyway, but I need your mobile phones. Now.

  The way he shouted the last word seemed like even more of a threat than the gun he was holding. Dumbly they passed the useless devices to the front for collection. All except Andrew Parker and Mrs. Johnson.

  I know you don´t have your device Andrew, because it´s in my bag here in case it should prove useful later on. But as for you, Mrs. Johnson, I´m afraid that I must insist on having your phone: or are you trying to convince me that you don´t have one?

  I have to call my daughter. She´ll be worried, Mrs. Johnson protested tearfully.

  She´ll be more worried if you force me to shoot your husband in the face, Jonathan Bloom suggested.

  Tearful rummaging in her bag and then Mrs. Johnson handing over her mobile.

  Thank you. You see, that was easy enough, Bloom told them.

  He put the phones in a plastic bag that he tied on to a loop of his sack.

  Don´t ask me to explain all this. It´s too complicated, he said. I shall be leaving you now. Don´t try to follow me or I will shoot you. Otherwise you can do as you wish. Stay with the vehicle and hope for rescue, or set off walking if you prefer. I think we may be in Namibia if that helps at all, or perhaps we´re still in Botswana. Anyway remember we are a long way off the regular tourist routes, just as you all wanted to be.

  And one more thing before I go…

  He reached across to where Michael´s body was still oozing blood, picked up the knife from the floor of the cab, pushed the blade as far as it would go into the guts of the dead man and then heaved upward with all his strength. There was a soft plopping noise as the insides of the gut spilled out, and an immediately the air around them reeked horribly. Jill noticed that George was vomiting over the side of the vehicle.

  Jonathan Bloom left the knife where it was. He had a better one in the pack.

  We haven´t seen much big game out here, Bloom said, but it´s around for sure, and there´s not a lot of daylight left. You all know how predators feel about the scent of fresh blood and food is scarce out here, so when you are thinking about whether you should stay or go, maybe that’s something to consider.

  He climbed down from the vehicle and walked to the side where Jill was sitting. She shrank back from him but he was looking past her to Emma, who was shaking uncontrollably and racked by great silent sobs that left her gasping.

  I´m going now, do you want to come? He asked her.

  Go fuck yourself, Emma managed to force the words through her trembling lips.

  Suit yourself, probably it´s for the best.

  Bloom shrugged and started to walk away from the Cruiser. They all watched as from time to time he looked back and waved the gun above his head as a reminder to them. By the time anyone could speak he was a dot on the flat horizon.

  What are we going to do? Emma wailed. Her teeth were chattering and she was still finding it difficult to breathe.

  We should do what we can for this poor man, said Mr. Johnson, pointing at Michael.

  He´s dead, said Andrew Parker, in an absent-minded voice.

  George was climbing out of the vehicle, almost falling into his own vomit as he struggled over the spare wheel.

  Mr. Kriegman, he shouted.

 
***

  They came to where the guide was lying, a long way up the track, out of sight of the Cruiser. It seemed incredible that they could have travelled so far in the short time between the first frenzied attack of the madman and the point where he’d wrecked their vehicle. Kriegman had managed to roll over a little onto his side so that his face was no longer in the dust. Some of his weight had fallen on his left leg and it was clear from the angle at which it now lay that the leg was broken. He didn’t make any sound or raise his head as they approached, but they found him conscious.

  The wounded man was clutching his belly with both hands, as if to hold something in. His shirt was soaked with blood that was still wet. It seemed stupid to ask him how he felt, but Jill didn’t know how else to put the question.

  I’m finished, was the reply. He took me in the guts and something has split open. The bleeding won’t stop now.

  We need to get you bandaged up. We’ve got plenty of spare clothes to use.

  Waste of time lady. I’ve seen wounds like these before. When I was a kid, they gave us guns and sent us out into the bush, to fight black communism they told us. Bullshit. There’s some kinds of wounds you can ignore and others that finish you, fast or slow. This kind is one that isn’t quick enough.

  He tried to move but the effort sent a spasm through his body and he settled back.

  Anyway, you can see that my leg is gone and there’s something wrong in my back. Don’t know if it’s broken or what, but I can’t do anything.

  He paused, as if needing to gather strength between each sentence. No one knew what to say to him.

  It’s my own fault. I should have kept a closer eye on that Bloom. I could see there was something of the hyena about him. Where did he go?