by Linda Ihle
She peered down at her now, assuring herself that this woman was alone. As Devin watched her, the woman rose and leaned against the tree, wiping her hands on her shorts, then walked out a little way under the boughs and peered upward. The minute the woman walked out into the dwindling sunlight, Devin could see the gore trickling like a thick, grisly waterfall down the inside of her thighs. Her first thought was that the woman had been raped and she half rose to go to her, but resisted the urge. She had to ensure first that they were alone. The woman walked behind the tree, out of sight, and Devin took the opportunity to rise quickly and peer about the bush. Nothing moved. She crawled quickly back to her supplies, picked them up, rose to her full height and walked to the lip. She sat down there and waited for the woman to reappear. Within seconds, the woman walked around the tree, still peering upward, her eyes shaded.
What the hell is she looking at?
She still had not seen Devin. “Hey!” Devin shouted.
The woman screamed and collapsed to her knees under the upward reaching boughs of the tree, her hands clasped before her, a supplicant.
“It’s OK, hey” Devin called, rising. “I won’t hurt you. I’m gonna come down there now, OK?”
The woman nodded mutely, her face grey with terror. Devin walked down into the bowl and the fifty yards or so across to the base of the tree. She put her things down, keeping the rifle on her shoulder, then straightened and stared at the woman. “Are you all right?” she asked. “Have you been raped or something?”
The woman shook her head, tears flowing down her cheeks, joined by a thin stream of translucent snot from her nose which she wiped at constantly with the back of her hand. She stared at Devin who had forgotten that she now resembled a maniacal troll.
“Well, um, what then?” Devin asked raising a cupped empty hand to the sky, ever impatient.
“I have my period,” the woman choked.
“Oh. Oh, shit!” Devin exclaimed. “What’s your name?”
“Angela,” she sobbed.
“Listen to me, Angela,” Devin said, “we’re gonna have to do something about all that blood, hey. You’ll have every hyena, leopard, and lion within a mile sniffing around our arses before we know it. Of course, though, you don’t have any pads or anything, right?”
Angela shook her head, looking up at her, her eyes wide with fright. “I didn’t know what to do,” she said softly.
“Ja, and I have absolutely no idea what they do out here either,” Devin confessed, gesturing at the bush around them, wondering now why she had never even thought about it. What did the black women who lived out here in the bush do? They couldn’t run to the shops for some Tampax or Kotex, or whatever. “Is this your first day?” she asked. “Is that why there’s so much?”
Angela nodded. “What’s your name?” she asked, timidly.
“Devin. Well, we’re going to have to get you cleaned up and then we’ll have to find something to catch all that damn blood.” Devin, forefinger to her bottom lip, peered about, seeking inspiration. None was forthcoming. Shrugging, she reached down for Angela’s hand and hoisted her to her feet. She was about the same height as Devin, a little more meat on her bones though. Devin gazed down at the woman’s feet. They were caked with drying blood, but still firmly encased in those heavy-duty tackies.
“Take your shoes off,” she said.
“What?”
“Take your shoes off. Where are your socks?”
“How’d you know I was wearing socks?”
“I was on the plane with you. Where are they?”
“You were on the...?”
“I’m sorry, Angela, but it’s getting bloody late, hey. We still have to eat and we have to get this blood off you,” Devin interrupted impatiently. “Where the hell are your damn socks?”
“I...I took them off because they were full of thorns and I put them up in the tree,” she stammered, pointing up to the lowest bough.
Puzzled, Devin saw them dangling there like obscene, blood spattered fruit, and jumped up to pull them down. “OK,” she said, “come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“Just up there a little way where there’s some soft soil.”
Devin led the way, Angela following close behind, her womb still pumping out the blood. It itched now where it crawled down the inside of her thighs, but she was loath to stick her fingers in it to scratch. Devin found a small area of bare soil and instructed Angela to remove her blood-soaked shorts. “Are you wearing underpants?” she asked. Angela nodded. “Get those off too.”
Angela stared at her, then turned her back modestly and stripped off her shoes and her shorts and lacy panties, holding the latter out by thumb and forefinger. She looked back at Devin who nodded for her to drop them in the grass, which she did. “OK, now sit down in the soil,” Devin instructed. Angela obeyed, staring up at her as if she had gone mad. “Take handfuls of the dirt and scrub your legs with it.” Angela stared for a second, then did as she was told. As she took care of that, Devin pulled stalks of grass from nearby stands, folding them and handing them to Angela. “Use that to kind of wipe it up,” she instructed.
Soon, Angela’s legs were muddy and stained, but much of the wet gore had been removed. She felt really stupid sitting here clad only in her bra and shirt, bare butt in the soil. She could feel the flow of menstrual blood continuing unabated, but now soaking into the ground where she sat.
“Now,” instructed the odd-looking white woman, clad only in bra and panties and wearing part of a tree for a hat, “dig a hole and....oh, never mind, just bring that dirty grass, all of it, back to the tree when we go back down there.” Devin peered into the west gauging the amount of time they had left before blackness dropped upon the veldt. “Take your socks and fill them with the soil where you haven’t bled.”
Angela acquiesced. The once-white and now blood-polka-dotted socks were filled to fat-sausage proportions, whereupon Devin made her empty some of the dirt out, flattening the socks out to resemble sanitary towels. “OK, now put your pants back on and put that sock in there -- it’ll help soak up some of the blood.” Angela rose and did as she was bid, pulling up the bloody, flimsy panties as high as she could to hold the heavy dirt pad against her vagina. She had a little difficulty walking with this seemingly massive, heavy burden in her underwear, pulling her pants down with every step she took.
Devin noticed. “Take your bra off and use it to hold the sock in place,” she said. Angela obeyed, unhooking the back of her bra and pulling it out through her shirt sleeves. She put the middle portion between the (not insubstantial) cups between her legs, then pulled up and twisted the remainder until she could tie it in a knot around her waist. It helped. She smiled at Devin, her teeth brilliantly white and straight in her dirt-caked, tear-streaked face. “Thanks,” she said.
“My pleasure,” said Devin, shrugging. “Let’s eat.”
She sent Angela off to seek out dried twigs and small branches while she dug a hole directly under the fig tree, hoping that the smoke from the fire she was about to build would be dissipated by the lush foliage of the tree. She placed a bed of dry grass in the hole then jumped up several times until she got a good grip on the lowest branch and climbed the tree to check it for the usual snakes, scorpions, etc. She was amazed that the tree had escaped the attention of the elephants, although old, deep scars along its trunk and lower limbs testified to their long-ago interest in it. Thank goodness they had not pushed it over in search of the more succulent roots She spied Angela returning, arms piled high with dusty black twigs and small branches. I hope she checked them for spiders, Devin mused, then shrugged. What the hell, she thought, I won’t say a thing.
She climbed down the tree and helped Angela unload the kindling into the small pit. Devin started the fire, before seeking a makeshift spit and two forked branches to hold it. She handed the pheasant to Angela. “Do you know how to pluck these?” she asked. Angela stared at the limp bird, a moue of disgust passing briefly
across her mouth, then shook her head. “Alright, then, I s’pose I’ll do it,” Devin sighed. She moved about twenty yards from the bole of the tree and began to clean the bird. It didn’t take long, and soon the pheasant was neatly spitted and dangling over the small fire. They had about thirty minutes, at the most, of daylight, although, here in the bowl, it seemed that the night was premature, the shadows lengthening by the minute, the air temperature dropping fast.
Far off, a lion roared. Devin cocked her head to the side, reminding Angela at that moment of a dog. She said nothing, merely watched as Devin went about the ritual of lighting a cigarette and inhaling that first exquisite drag. Devin looked up and found Angela staring at her. “I don’t look as bad as I did yesterday,” she said with a giggle, smoke pouring from her nostrils and mouth. “I had a little bit of a bath this morning.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Angela said softly, “I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just that I can hardly believe you’re here. Gosh, it’s as if you were sent.”
“Huh?” Devin stared at her. “By whom?” she queried, knowing what the answer would be.
“God,” said Angela, matter-of-fact in her faith.
The same one that didn’t stop us from being shot down? Aloud, she responded “Oh, ja, sure,” then swiftly changed the subject. “You were on the plane and you wouldn’t leave when the pilot told us all to go. What changed your mind? What happened back there? They came didn’t they?”
Angela paled, staring at this strange woman squatting like a native before the fire, her skinny, long arms across the top of her bony knees. “Yes,” she said softly. She shivered. “It was horrifying. I watched everyone leave and follow the pilot, then I saw one of them running away from an elephant....”
“That was me,” said Devin, grinning wryly. “The bugger was persistent too, I tell you.”
“Gosh, you’re lucky!” Angela gasped.
“Ja, I reckon,” Devin said. “Carry on.”
“Well, I was just going to sit there and wait to be rescued, I guess. But I also thought about what the pilot told y’all. I went back into the tail section and hid under the seats and blankets and luggage that all ended up back there, by a window. I also made a small opening in the covers so that I could see out. So’s, I guess, I could see anyone coming. And I pulled the body of the black stewardess over the top of it all.” She looked up, shamefaced. “And then I heard them coming. At first, I thought it might be a rescue squad, but I heard the way they were whooping and hollering. Oh, Lord, it was frightening!” She stared off into the distance and was silent a moment. Devin could see the whites of her eyes. A small brown cast in the corner of the woman’s right eye, close to the soft black of the iris, caught her attention. She said nothing, waiting for Angela to gather her thoughts. “I changed my mind really quickly then and I climbed out down the wing and I ran in the same direction everyone else had gone. The shouting and celebrating got louder and I knew I would have to hide quickly. I headed for a huge black rock and the big tree behind it. It had a lot of foliage and little round yellow-green fruit on it. I climbed up that tree so fast!” Devin nodded. “I got close to the top toward the back and just sat very still and within minutes I saw them appear out of the bush and head toward the plane.”
“Who was left alive there?”
“Just me and an old German couple, and their granddaughter. The ones who were injured by the impact when we came down were already dying or dead by the time those …. those savages got there.”
“Don’t tell me the Germans walked out to meet them.”
“Sure did,” Angela said, shaking her head. She pronounced “did” “dee-id”. “The soldiers walked up to the plane and the German couple stood up and hailed them. They....oh, God!” She swallowed hard and shook her head hard to rid it of the vision impaled there. “They grabbed the woman and they stripped her. Then they made her husband watch while they took turns raping her. When they were done, they threw her on the ground just like she was a piece of garbage, then they went after her husband. All this time, the little girl was standing there screaming. One of them shot her right through the head, then the woman got up off the ground and went after them kicking and screaming and biting. The old man just stood there like he was in shock or something. They grabbed the woman and made her watch while they killed her husband.”
“Ja, typical,” said Devin.
Angela stared at her. “They beat him to a pulp, then cut off his lips and tore out his tongue. He was screaming until they took his tongue; then he was silent.” She gazed into the flames, tears welling in her eyes. “The woman was just sitting like she was in shock, just rocking backwards and forwards, rocking and rocking. It was like she wasn’t there any more, you know?” Devin nodded. “Then,” Angela whispered, “they built up one of the small fires that had started by the destroyed wing and engine. They cooked his lips, and his tongue. They tried to force the woman to eat them, but she wouldn’t open her mouth. Plus, I don’t think she understood them. They pulled her mouth open then and pushed those things down her throat. I guess she choked to death. Her husband was still alive, but he must have been bleeding to death, because he died soon after that.”
“Uh huh,” said Devin, non-committal. “Did they leave then? Did they go looking in the plane for any others?”
“They hung around for a while. They were laughing and they seemed to be joking – I couldn’t understand a word they were saying, of course, and I was a good 75 yards away. But, I tell you what, they were close enough that I thought I could smell them. Then something must have spooked them. I don’t know, I was praying so hard for them not to look toward my hiding place. I guess God must have heard me.”
Why, child, you must be very special to have been thus selected for salvation, Devin thought. Your god has just gotta have a plan for you. She said nothing, just watched the woman’s face, focusing on the mouth, waiting for the rest of the story.
“They urinated on the dead bodies, then undressed the little girl and dumped her in the fire. I....I still can’t figure it out. I guess they wanted her clothing? It made no sense! Gosh, Devin, I have never been so terrified in my life. I’ll never forget that odor as long as I live.” She gagged and put her hand over her mouth.
“You gonna vomit?” Devin asked ready to rise and put some distance between her and the woman. Angela shook her head. “OK, good. I don’t do well with vomit. So, did you make a run for it after they left and night fell?”
“No, I waited there until the morning. I was afraid of what I wouldn’t be able to see in the dark.”
“Good move,” said Devin, nodding. “Ja, that’s what I’ve done - sleep in a tree at night and move during the day. Mind you, you’re lucky they didn’t set fire to the plane. That fire would have spread quite quickly and possibly burned your tree down too. Actually, I am still surprised the plane didn’t explode when he brought it down. Reckon we’ll never figure that one out. Good pilot, I s’pose.” She scratched absent-mindedly at her scalp, feeling the grit and sand deposited there by her dust baths.
“Yeah. Um, why are you wearing only your underwear, and how on earth did you get the gun?” Angela asked.
Devin told her, as she began to pull the pheasant off the spit. Twilight spilled into and spread through the bowl. “Careful,” she told Angela, “it’s hot.”
Angela ate quickly, and thanked Devin. “Can I stay with you?” she asked. “I’m so afraid.”
“Sure, but you’re gonna have to pull your weight when it comes to getting food and cooking it, hey. I don’t know how far we have to go.” Devin grinned at her. “Oh, and do me a favor: When and if I tell you to do something, do it immediately, without question, or you could get us both in deep shit.”
“Sure,” said Angela smiling back. “You’re a godsend.”
“Um, I don’t think so,” Devin said with a sigh and once again her mind snapped back to that last conversation she had had with her mother. She shook it off and said, “Listen, you wouldn’t ha
ppen to know anything about AK-47s would you?” She gestured at the rifle. Angela shook her head. “Too bad, I really would like to figure out how to fire one bullet at a time.” She shrugged. “Oh, well. Now, we need to get our arses up this tree. Wee first, though.”
“We first?”
“Uh, pee.”
“Oh, yes, you’re right,” Angela agreed, scrambling to feet. “I wouldn’t want to have to get down in the middle of the night.”
“No, you wouldn’t. If I were you, I’d also change that pad. Empty the bloody dirt out far away from here, then fill it up with fresh dirt for the morning. It’s gonna be a long night.”
They went their separate ways to take care of their toilet. As Devin squatted in the long grass at the lip of the valley, she gazed out upon the bush, red in the dying light, and wondered how she would be able to keep the two of them going. She finished urinating and rose and stretched, pulling her panties up as she did. She walked a little way west of the valley, seeking thorns and found a few scattered scrubby wag-n-bietjie trees. She broke several branches off and hauled them back to the baobab where she built a small barricade around the base, adding dead branches to the fire, bringing it to a roaring blaze, then leaned back and sipped at a cup of water as she waited for Angela to return.