Fear No Evil

by John Gordon Davis

  She looked up at him in the firelight, neither of them knowing what to do. Then she slowly raised one hand, and she tremblingly touched his face. She looked at him, brimming with new tears. Then she stifled a sob, he awkwardly scooped his arms around her, and they held each other tight.

  ‘There, there, Elizabeth …’

  ‘Oh, beautiful Davey … I don’t want anything to happen to you …’

  He held her against him, her wet cheek pressed against his, and he hesitantly kissed her face. She sobbed, ‘Lie with me …’

  She let go of him and shifted over on the sleeping bag and patted the place beside her. He came down beside her awkwardly. They took each other in their arms again, her tears shining in the firelight; she closed her eyes and parted her lips, and they kissed.

  Tremblingly, nervously, lips and teeth pressed together, every muscle tense. Then she sobbed; her mouth and the rest of her body went soft and she held him tight. She broke the kiss and looked at him, and he looked down at her, not knowing what to expect. She gave a little sob, and she yielded completely and kissed him—again and again, short, tearful, nibbling kisses, on his mouth, his chin, his cheeks, his nose, his eyes, and he held her tight and kissed her tearful face. Then, just naturally, one of his hands fumbled for her breast, and she sob-moaned and clutched him tighter; and she cried into his shoulder, ‘I won’t let anything happen to you …’ She kissed him fiercely, her whole body pressed against him.

  Sam got up from the fire elaborately and went and lay down with his back to them; afterward, lying in Davey’s arms, Elizabeth’s face was beautiful.

  seventy-four

  A lot of other things happened that night. Jonas Ford, hobbling on his bitten ankle, peering without his glasses, surveyed the two fallen gorillas. He ordered Ben and Sixpence to tie their feet and hands securely, back to back, while he called the Oconaluftee camp on his radio. Apart from the pain in his savaged ankle, he was full of grim self-satisfaction, but he announced his success tersely, gave the liaison officer a rough map reference, instructed him to dispatch a helicopter with a tree-felling crew, plus antitetanus serum for his ankle, and finally told him to radio his news to Forsythe. Then he lit a big fire and settled down to wait, while the trackers bound his captives. Five minutes later Charlie’s two Cherokees came upon the scene.

  They had doggedly followed Jamba’s spoor since that morning. They had found Forsythe’s spoor on the way, then followed Ford’s when the party split up. One minute Jonas Ford was grimly congratulating himself and nursing his ankle, the next a hand clamped over his mouth, and his hands were wrenched behind him. In a moment he was gagged and bound. Ben and Sixpence were tying the gorillas; the next moment they were tied hand and foot themselves. The Cherokees stamped out the fire. One tipped out Ford’s knapsack and found his flare gun; the other sat down with the radio.

  ‘This is Professor Ford calling basecamp. Cancel helicopter; the gorillas escaped. Repeat cancel helicopter. I will sleep on the spoor and follow them in the morning. Over and out.’

  Then he lifted the radio above his head and smashed it on the ground. The other Cherokee took Ford’s tranqu-pistol, and the darts. Ford was goggle-eyed. They took the gag out of his mouth. ‘Sorry about all this, sir.’

  Ford spluttered, ‘What’s the meaning of this?!’

  They were busy untying the unconscious gorillas. ‘We’ll untie y’all when they woken up and gone, sir. Then you’ll be free to go. Nearest place is Gatlinburg, that way. It’ll only take you three days. Four at the outside.’

  The other side of the mountains, Forsythe made camp on Rajah’s spoor, so as to get going again at first light. Every minute was going to count tomorrow. It was clear from the spoor that not only was Jordan tracking Rajah, but so were the gunmen who had shot the elephant near the cabin. Forsythe’s heart was black with fury.

  The three Cherokees waited until everybody was in his sleeping bag, until it sounded as if everybody was asleep.

  Enormous Samson had to be the first to go, He woke up with a hand slammed on his mouth, a Cherokee on his chest and another on his feet, hastily binding him up in his sleeping bag, while the other Cherokee sat upon a bucking, muzzled Forsythe till the other two could come and help. The three television men were easy after that. The Cherokees apologized for the rough treatment. They regretfully smashed the radio and the dartguns. Then, with assurances that they were not going to hurt anybody, they cut open the ends of the sleeping bags. One by one, they put on their captive’s boots for them, helped them to their feet, and politely told them to start down the mountain. Two of the Cherokees stayed behind to start following Rajah’s spoor with the sunrise.

  Forsythe and his men went down the mountain like resuscitated mummies, bound in the sleeping bags, the ends trailing like bridal trains, stumbling through the undergrowth, the third Cherokee herding them politely. Many times the captives fell and had to be helped up. It took over six hours to retrace their steps to the Garden of Eden. Then the Cherokee asked them to lie down in a line.

  ‘Anybody who wants a pee just say, and I’ll untie you enough. I’m gonna keep you here until noon, then you’re free. Your best way back is up the mountains, along the Appalachian back to Newfound Gap. Take you about three days, four at the outside. Now everybody please go back to sleep.’

  seventy-five

  It was a lovely morning. The sun was just coming up, riotously golden red; a light mist was hanging, and the world was young and alive.

  Elizabeth sterilized her instruments while Davey led Rajah by his trunk down to the stream.

  ‘Kneel, Rajah,’ he said gently. The last thing Rajah wanted to do was kneel because of the pain, and he looked at Davey imploringly. But he insisted. ‘Kneel, Rajah, please.’

  Rajah wanted to obey, so he tried, and he grunted at the pain and straightened up again. ‘Kneel, Rajah.’ Finally the elephant painfully made it down.

  Davey held his trunk, stroked it and praised him, while Elizabeth went quickly to his hindquarters. She shoved the big syringe of anesthetic into his hide, and heaved down the plunger. Rajah squealed and began to scramble up, but Davey leaned on his trunk and shouted, ‘Kneel, Rajah.’ Elizabeth heaved down on his haunch and kept pressing the plunger. Rajah complained and flinched; then she yanked out the needle.

  ‘There you are, Rajah.’

  They knelt at his head and thanked him for being good, stroking him, and Rajah knelt there, blinking, not understanding what all this agonizing kneeling was about but knowing they were sympathizing, so he continued to suffer for their sake, enjoying their affection and praise. Then, suddenly, the pain began to dull, and a drowsiness came into his great thudding head.

  Elizabeth tied her hair in a knot, washed her hands vigorously in the stream, pulled on new rubber gloves, and set to work. Her instruments were laid out on a piece of cloth. She was not sure how long the anesthetic would last, how deep Rajah’s unconsciousness, so she had a booster shot ready.

  She cut into the lump of swollen, infected flesh on his shoulder. A mass of pus and blood welled out. She pressed on the sides of the wound, and it bubbled out. She pressed until clean blood came; then she probed deep into the wound.

  Davey was pale, watching her face intently.

  ‘Gotcha!’

  She snatched up a pair of forceps and buried them into the blood. She bit her lip as she probed, then she triumphantly withdrew the forceps. Clutched in them was the bloody, distorted bullet. She flung it aside and sprinkled a big dash of antibiotic into the wound.

  Then she took up a large needle, threaded with thick catgut. She shoved the point into his thick hide, and grimaced as she pressed hard. The curved needle slid in, reappeared inside the open wound, disappeared into the other side of it, finally coming slowly up out of the hide. She repeated the sewing process three more times, and tied knots.

  ‘That’ll have to do.’

  Then she opened up the first wound on his flank. More blood and pus gushed out. She probed, frowning.r />
  ‘It hit the rib. We’re having luck.’

  She eased the bullet out with the forceps. She packed the wound in antibiotic, and stitched it. Then the next wound. Then the next.

  ‘We’re having luck, Rajah. We’re having luck, boy. All these are pretty superficial.’

  Davey said, They’re all forty-fives so far. A forty-five doesn’t have much range.’

  ‘Think positively, Davey.’

  ‘I am. Don’t worry.’

  It took her well over an hour to attend to all the wounds on his flank. But all of them were shallow.

  Then she started on his head. Some of these wounds had been made with a long-range rifle.

  Grimacing, she sliced hard into the heavy, gristly hide. Rajah groaned, and his trunk twitched in protest, even in sleep, and Davey held him tight. She sucked in a breath angrily.

  Elizabeth knelt back, her hands dripping blood. ‘I’ll never get this one out like this. It’s gone right into the skull, at least an inch.’

  ‘Can you feel the bullet?’

  ‘Come here.’

  He knelt beside her. ‘Spread the wound open like that. Wait, I’ll enlarge it.’ She buried the knife again and sawed downward into the bloody hide.

  He pressed his hands on both sides and forced open the lips. She muttered, ‘How can I see with this blood?’ She probed, peering. ‘Blood, the surgeon’s curse … Aha!’

  She picked up the forceps and buried them, squinting; she pulled out a chip of bone. She flicked it away. She probed again, and out came two chips.

  ‘I may be lucky. I really need to chisel away the sides of the hole, so I can get the forceps around the bullet, but how can I see what I’m doing with this blood?’

  She picked up a thin instrument, slid it into the hole, and wriggled the top, her tongue clenched between her teeth.

  ‘Eureka! I’ve turned it over. Oh yessir!’

  She probed triumphantly, picked and flicked, and a bloody lump of lead came tumbling out.

  ‘This is some surgery, Johnson,’ she muttered. ‘You’re winning no prizes. If my professors could see me now.’

  ‘They’d be very proud of you,’ Davey said fervently.

  An hour later she slumped on her haunches. Her hair hung over one eye, blood smeared her cheeks, her hands wet with blood. Rajah still knelt, fast asleep. Eleven wounds were all cleaned and stitched. She looked at Davey wearily, and smiled.

  ‘You’re fantastic,’ Davey said.

  ‘Oh, all in a day’s work.’

  He sighed in relief and gratitude. ‘How long will he be unconscious?’

  ‘A couple of hours. I don’t know.’

  He glanced up at the sun. ‘Is it bad to give him an antidote to wake him up?’

  She was too drained to think about anybody following; she was just filled with professional happiness and love for this poor elephant she had saved. She shook her head firmly. ‘He needs his strength. He’s going to be in pain when he wakes, anyway. It’s good to let him sleep for a while.’

  At about the same time that beautiful morning, a pale Frank Hunt urgently radioed the basecamp to tell them about the lions’ den.

  The lions had fled into the blackness of the mine when they saw him, and now Gasoline stood guard at a safe distance with the rifle. Frank wanted Forsythe to get his ass over here pronto because there was no way he was going to handle this little lot by himself without a Sherman tank.

  The liaison officer at the camp replied that he would report to Forsythe on the radio next time he called. Then Charles Worthy came on the air and excitedly congratulated Frank, telling him to stay where he was until help arrived.

  ‘Remember this is our show, Morris! Over and out.’

  Deep in the mine, Big Charlie lay with a bullet in his guts.

  seventy-six

  Fifty yards up from the barn was a little waterfall. From there they could see Rajah lying asleep.

  The sun was shafting through the trees, sparkling on the stream. Below them the wilderness stretched on and on in the mist, silent and still.

  The waterfall cascaded over a sheer rock, white and rainbowed, into a pool that was crystal clear and deep. Elizabeth crouched at the edge and washed the dried blood off her arms and face, while the chimpanzees, the bears, and Sam all solemnly watched her. Then she stood up and began to undo her shirt. She did not feel shy, but she noticed the animals all staring. ‘Do you mind?’ she smiled. She gave Davey an embarrassed grin, hastily unhitched her bra, unzipped her jeans and peeled them off, hopping on one leg, then the other, muttering, ‘Damn—how unromantic.’ In one reckless bound she sprang into a dive, every muscle tense, and crashed into the pool in a rigid bellyflop.

  She broke surface, gasping, her hair plastered, and looked around for Davey, then screeched as he came up underneath her. He burst up beside her, grinning and splashing, and she laughed, twisted out of his arms, and struck out for the waterfall. She climbed out and plonked herself onto the rock beneath the cascade, grinning and gasping, the white freezing water falling onto her head; she scrubbed her fingers thoroughly through her hair.

  Then, lying in the warm sunshine, she let him make love to her.

  She watched him approaching, smiling nervously up at him; he knelt down beside her, too shy to look at her nakedness yet: he put his hand on her soft flat belly. Tremblingly he stroked her, then he looked at her: her breasts, her thighs, the drops of water sparkling on her body. She lay still while he stroked her, feeling her woman-smoothness, the bliss in his hands, and her eyes were bright and happy. ‘You’re beautiful …’

  She smiled, closed her eyes, and held out her arms; he came down onto the grass beside her, and kissed her.

  And the sun made a little rainbow in the waterfall, and the birds sang in the trees.

  Afterward, lying in his arms, she said, ‘Davey … when this is all over, what are you going to do with your wonderful life?’

  He looked at the sky and smiled.

  ‘There’s so much to do …’ Then he turned his head to her. ‘Will you come with me? Please.’

  She smiled at him with all her heart.

  ‘Yes. I’ll come with you.’

  And she knew with absolute certainty that he was indestructible.

  He could see Judd’s Place through the trees. Automatically he noted how the wind was blowing: gently downhill, from behind them. Sam trotted beside him, quite relaxed. He could see Rajah still fast asleep.

  They crouched at his head. He was taking long, groaning breaths. ‘Rajah?’ she said gently.

  He did not stir. ‘Rajah?’

  Rajah just gave a long snoring sigh.

  ‘Water,’ she said. ‘What can we fill?’

  He emptied his knapsack, and scooped it full of water. He carried it to the good side of Rajah’s head.

  ‘Stand clear.’

  He got ready to toss the water over Rajah. Then suddenly Sam barked. Davey spun around, and Lonnogan’s voice bellowed from the trees, ‘We’ve, got you covered, Jordan.’

  The animals turned and galloped back into the forest, and Sam was bounding across the barnyard furiously barking. ‘Sam!’ Davey shouted and he dashed the water over Rajah. The elephant lurched, trunk upflung, trying to scramble up, and a shot rang out.

  Sam yelped in midbark and twisted and crashed. Then Davey was running flat out across the barnyard to Sam, bellowing ‘Don’t shoot!’ He fell onto his knees beside his writhing dog, and in one desperate movement scooped him up, and turned. He ran, staggering under Sam’s weight, lurching for the cover of the trees; Elizabeth was running wildly to help him, screaming, ‘Don’t shoot,’ and two more shots rang out.

  Davey lurched and blood splats appeared on his back. But somehow he righted his fall, and he staggered on, lurching for the trees, with Elizabeth running beside him, yelling, trying to support him. Then he fell onto his knees and elbows, still clutching Sam. Elizabeth shrieked, grabbed his arm wildly, and wrenched him up. He made it to his feet, and he tried to run
again, still holding Sam to his chest; then the shots rang out again from all sides, shattering and terrible.

  The shots that pulled down Davey Jordan, ‘in the course of resisting arrest,’ smashed through his back, and he let go of Sam and flung up his arms. For an instant he seemed to hang in the air before her horrified eyes, his face contorted. Then he fell on top of Sam, his arms spread wide. Elizabeth screamed and collapsed onto her knees beside him; she flung her arms around him and tried to lift him, crying his name. She crouched over him, gasping and shaking him, crying, ‘You’re not dead—you’re not dead!’

  Then a strangled howl wracked up from her belly, and her mouth contorted open, her face wet with his blood; she clutched him fiercely to her bosom, and she threw back her head, and out it came, a wailing cry of grief, grief, grief.

  part sixteen

  seventy-seven

  By three o’clock that afternoon Charles Worthy could wait no longer. Neither Forsythe nor Ford had radioed, which, Worthy figured, left him in charge. How long would those lions stay put in that mine? It was a golden opportunity, never to be repeated.

  He commandeered a big press helicopter, lashed the lions’ portable cage to the sling, plus the barrels they used in their pyramid trick. Plus a lot of fresh meat. Plus Frank’s scarlet ringmaster outfit. Plus a bottle of whisky. Plus as many television men as he could cram into the helicopter.

  Forty minutes later the helicopter hovered over the mine and deposited the circus gear on the rocky platform outside; then it shifted to a safer place, and the people clambered down. A few minutes later, Frank’s intense relief at the arrival of help and a stiff snort of whiskey changed to incredulity as Worthy explained the idea.

  ‘You’ve go to be joking.’

  But Chuck Worthy was deadly serious, and he made a few promises which added up to an offer Frank couldn’t refuse, not least of which was that he would leave Frank right here tonight, all alone if he didn’t like it.