Eventually, after what seemed like an aeon, the sun finally slipped down behind the hills. There was another ceremony in the camp as they lowered the flag, after which they sat and ate in the glow of the firelight, laughing and talking and pushing each other around. Now and again one would get up and disappear off into the bush, not always in the same direction. At first Amie thought they’d gone out on patrol, but later realised it was only the call of nature. All she could do was to sit as still as possible, only changing her position when it became unbearable.
She waited until it was almost dark before she squirmed out of her hiding-place.
Her first task was to replenish the water she'd used, so lying flat on her stomach she pulled herself the few feet to the river’s edge and submerged the bottles. She’d drunk as much as she wanted during the day, knowing she was right next to a water supply, which, although it tasted sandy, she felt sure wasn’t polluted.
She dragged herself back up the shallow bank, packed away the bottles and buried the bag as deeply as possible into the hole before pulling a couple of nearby branches over the top. Checking she had the gun in her pocket and the knife in her hand, she squatted down and made her way along the river. She had no idea how far the body of the poor, unfortunate woman had drifted, but her first task was to find it.
The night was surprisingly still for Africa. There were few signs of animals on the hunt, or scurrying through the undergrowth, but the presence of the men with all their shooting on the opposite river bank was probably the cause. Amie crept along, peering through the night into the water that lapped like beer froth back and forth against the bank. She was relieved when the river swung to the left, and she was now out of sight of the camp. She took the opportunity to straighten up, but at first her body refused to co-operate. It had been crunched up for so many hours, it was agony to stand straight and walk normally.
Amie took a few steps away from the river, and slipping behind an acacia tree she swung her arms in circles until she’d loosened up. Next, she practiced kicking with her legs and bending backwards and forwards until she felt more supple. Only when she felt she was in near working order did she venture back next to the river again.
It took a good half hour walking at a sedate pace before she saw a large black heap in the water. It wasn’t against the edge as she’d hoped, but stuck against a log which had blocked its free flow further downstream. Feeling around her, Amie pocketed the knife and grabbed a strong branch, and keeping as close to the bank as she could, she prodded the bundle to bring it closer. Her first few attempts were futile, but at last it wobbled to one side and floated free. Amie took a couple of tentative steps into the water and grabbed the edge of the burqa which slipped out of her hands. She leaned out again, and this time she got a better hold and managed to pull it right to the edge.
After a day in the heat the body had swelled up and bloated, which had kept it afloat but the smell was indescribable. A wave of nausea swept over her and she threw up what little contents she had in her stomach. She took several deep breaths and straightened up, pulling hard on the cloth that came away more easily than she expected. She saw the reason why.
The log which had stopped the body from moving had itself moved, and as the body floated free from its clothing, a pair of jaws snatched it and somersaulted back beneath the water. Amie went weak at the knees and sat down hard on the bank, her fingers now welded to the burqa while she watched the scene in horror. She’d been so certain there wouldn’t be crocodiles in the shallow river. That might explain why the soldiers were not patrolling on this side of the water, and why they’d not bothered to retrieve the body.
She stumbled backwards dragging the wet clothing behind her. She was aware crocodiles spent some time each day out of the water to warm up, and she had sat in her hole all day with never a thought she could be lunch just there for the taking. She hoped as the river appeared to be a good deal deeper here, they would not venture further upstream. She could only hope.
It was Amie’s plan to wear the burqa, but it was going to take a good deal of courage to put it on. To her relief, the water had washed away the blood but it still smelt foul and there were several bullet holes in it.
Watching the crocodile as it grabbed the body and sank beneath the surface, Amie shuddered. It was too gruesome to watch, yet she could not tear her eyes away from the scene. The crocodile surfaced once more then disappeared from sight.
Once her legs had stopped wobbling and her shakes had subsided, she walked back the way she had come. A little further on, she immersed the burqa in the river again, hoping to wash away at least some of the smell. Even at night, it should dry out a little. So, should she hole up for another day or try and put her plan into action now?
As she approached the bend in the river, she looked at her watch. She was going to cross over and go into the camp, but she was still not sure where the men were patrolling, or if they were keeping a lookout. One more day? Even though it was an uncomfortable hole, it gave her a false sense of security and another few hours of daylight would help her to plan better.
The following morning was a repetition of the one before; until around lunchtime Amie heard the sound of a truck approaching on the other side of the river, and saw a large cloud of dust. It was closely followed by a second vehicle and she wondered if the new arrivals were friend or foe.
It didn’t take long for her to see they were friends, as several men got out and walked into the camp. From her hideout, Amie could only see part of the action, but at last her patience was rewarded. A couple of the soldiers walked over to a tent she hadn’t noticed being used, and dragged out Ben, Charles and lastly Jonathon. Amie exhaled. They were here! She had found them! She could set them free!
A horrible thought occurred to her. Had the trucks come to take them away? Had she endured all this to have the prize snatched away at the last minute?
As the people walked between the tents, Amie caught glimpses of action. It looked as if the new arrivals were questioning the men and several times, she heard cries as if they were being beaten. She watched them leaning over the captives who were sitting on the ground, and screaming at them, words flying back and forth, none of which made any sense to her. When they had finished, the three men were pushed unceremoniously back into the tent and several armed guards were stationed at each corner.
Amie was distraught. She wanted to rush across and attack the men who were hurting the man she loved, but all she could do was watch, wait and hope she could rescue all of them.
It was obviously time for some celebrations as the visitors were treated to a meal, and then, much to Amie’s horror, the two young girls were dragged out of the women’s tent and although she couldn’t see what was happening, her imagination filled in the blanks. Tears streamed silently down her cheeks as she pressed her finger nails into her palms. The animals! They’re nothing more than animals she raged inside. No, animals have a higher code of conduct. How dare they? How dare they treat poor defenceless children like playthings? These were the very people who openly vowed to protect both women and children. These men were doing neither, it was obvious to Amie they were exploiting the women for their own ends. While the anger boiled inside her, she realised she’d learned more. She now knew which tent they were keeping the men in, and the location of the women’s tent. Now all she had to do was crawl in under cover of darkness and set them all free.
8 AN UNEXPECTED REUNION
Right Amie, she mocked herself. It’s all so simple isn’t it? Is that the best plan you can come up with? The answer was yes, it was her only plan, and she hoped the burqa would be the disguise that would see her through the ordeal.
She wriggled around in her hole, and between snoozing to try and keep up her strength, nibbling on some biscuits, chewing biltong, and taking sips of her warm water - there was no way she could keep it cool - she waited for the sun to go down on the second day. But the minutes dragged by and she felt the day would never end. She heard rauc
ous laughter from the other side of the river and she suspected the men were getting very drunk. Earlier they had unloaded several boxes from the trucks, and some looked suspiciously like crates of beers and boxes of whiskey. They were not planning on leaving this area any time soon. As far as Amie knew, Muslims didn’t drink alcohol, but that didn’t appear to apply to the visitors and those officers in charge of the camp.
Towards the end of the afternoon she retrieved the tin of black gunk and spread it all over her face and hands. She thought it must have deterred the mosquitoes, because they hadn’t bothered her at all, but several biting flies seemed attracted to it.
Amie tried to work out what to do first. There are six women in the small tent, she reasoned, the children aren’t in there but while the women’s tent was closer to the water, Amie thought it would be better to try and rescue the men first, then they could help set everyone else free. So, that was the plan, she just needed to choose the right time.
The carousing went on for hours. The sun had set, but the moon hadn’t risen yet, and the few figures Amie could see stumbling around in the dark looked very drunk indeed. Was her luck in? She felt a huge wave of hope coursing through her body while she waited. She tried to remember if crocodiles hunted at night, or if they were mainly active during the day? She wished she could remember all the things Dirk had taught them about the wild, but if that was what fate had in store for her, it was better than being captured and raped by these human animals.
Eventually the noise died down. It was impossible to see in which tents the new arrivals were being housed, but she doubted they would be in with the prisoners. She hoped they’d left as few guards as possible on duty.
She wriggled out of her hiding place and wrapped the burqa round the top half of her body, she didn’t want it to get wet as she waded across the river. She tucked the knife into her waistband, slithered down the bank to the edge of the water and looked long and hard both ways. She could see no shapes, nothing that would suggest a crocodile was lurking close by. She grabbed a stout branch just in case. It might help her to escape if one of the enormous reptiles attacked.
As she waded through the water, she was careful not to make waves, but she didn’t stop after every few steps as she had before, there was danger in the water too. With a sigh of relief, she reached the far bank, and leaving the branch beside the water, she crawled up the shallow incline. She melted into the shadow of a tree and let the burqa fall to her feet. It still smelled foul from its previous occupant, but it provided excellent camouflage. Amie paused to get her bearings. Despite looking at the camp for over two days from the other side of the river, it didn’t look as familiar from this angle. She would keep to the shadows and try to skirt round the outside of the enclosure and approach the men’s tent from the far side.
Her plan had gone well so far, but when Amie peeped around the corner of one of the tents, to her horror she saw it was surrounded by armed guards who didn’t seem drunk. But they did not appear to be alert either. The two at the front of the tent were whispering, and the couple on the other side, were standing smoking, drinking from a whiskey bottle and gazing up at the night sky.
Amie could see no way of getting close to the tent without the guards seeing her. She retreated a little way deep into the shadows and wondered what to do. If she waited would they eventually go to sleep? Or would they be replaced by other guards who were more sober when they arrived on duty? There was simply no way to tell. She was stuck and she could only hope they considered their captives important, or they wouldn’t be keeping such a close watch on them. There was no one guarding the women’s tent so perhaps that was a better target, could she create some sort of a diversion?
She dithered, as she stood next to the corner tent and looked round. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself and took a deep breath, she had to make a decision, and soon, she couldn’t wait there all night.
One of the soldiers standing at the rear of the tent went to sit with the two at the front, and the low sound of their voices carried over the night air. They passed the bottle back and forth between them. The remaining guard at the rear staggered straight towards Amie. She held her breath, sure he would see her, even though she was enveloped in the black burqa. He came so close she could smell the smoke from his cigarette, the alcohol and the sharp, unpleasant tang of sweat from his unwashed body. Amie realised that in all the time she’d been watching the camp, not one of the men had been down to the river to wash properly, except for a brief trip before prayers.
Amie held her breath and half closed her eyelids. She was afraid he might see the whites of her eyes. She had no idea if that was a sensible thing to do, but he tottered straight past her and disappeared further out into the bush. She guessed he would be back as soon as he’d relieved himself. All she had to do was stand completely still and wait for him to pass her again.
But that didn’t happen.
Something bumped into Amie’s side and she fought to keep her balance. She felt the impact of the man before she had time to react. He swayed drunkenly to one side and pulled her into him, wrapping one sweaty arm around her head, forcing her mouth closed. His hand pressed hard against her lips. With his other arm he gripped her in a bear hug round her chest, crushing her tightly.
She kicked and struggled, but the burqa bunched up around her nose so she could hardly breathe. Another soldier got up, staggered over and the men conferred in a language Amie couldn’t begin to understand. She had to get air into her lungs. She was on the point of passing out when the first soldier released the pressure on her chest and they dragged her over towards the women’s tent. While one held her, the other untied the ropes holding the flaps together and threw Amie inside before re-securing the canvas.
She fell over in the dark and landed on something, or rather someone. There was a muffled cry of pain from the person underneath Amie, muttering and some squeals. Amie struggled to unwrap the burqa which had coiled itself round her like a winding sheet and she fumbled about in the dark trying to make out what was around her. She fell backwards onto another body causing more grunts and complaints from the other women.
“Sorry, sorry,” mumbled Amie.
“English?” an astonished whisper came from the far corner.
“Yes, yes,” Amie gasped. She still hadn’t got her breath back and every time she tried to free herself from the thick black burqa, it felt as if she was pulling it tighter. By the time she was free she felt quite exhausted.
“Yer English?” the question was repeated.
“Yes! You are too?” Amie could hear that the voice didn’t belong to an African, the accent was wrong. It sounded like a very broad Birmingham accent.
“I don’t effing believe it,” came the loud whisper. “Another girl from home? How long since they got you?”
“About five minutes,” replied Amie feeling around her in the dark.
“What? But, but we’re in the middle of effing nowhere. Did you come with those trucks we heard?”
“No. Look it’s a long story. I was hoping to rescue you.”
“Fat chance. They keep a good watch over us here.”
Amie felt other hands reach out to touch her, pairs of hands that gently poked and prodded as if to make sure she was real. “How many of you are there?” she asked, as her eyes became a little more accustomed to the dark. Now she could make out shapes, but not individuals.
“Eight women, no, seven of us now,” the voice broke a little. “And two kids,” replied the girl.
“And you’re all here?” asked Amie.
“No. The kids and Phumelo ain’t in here now, they’re busy with the big-wigs.”
“And how long have you been here?”
“Dunno. Several weeks I think.”
“Is anyone else here English?” Amie asked.
“Nope, only me. I were separated from the rest. We all went to different places.”
“But from where?” Amie was puzzled.
“That’s a
long story, and I’ll tell you later, but for now can you rescue us? Please! That’d be flippin’ great. Help us get free.”
“I didn’t see any soldiers outside this tent tonight, why haven’t you tried to escape?” Amie asked.
“Ah, you can’t see. They tie our hands and feet together at night.” A hand touched Amie’s arm and guided it down so Amie could feel for herself. Amie gasped, no wonder they’d not been able to escape.
“They didn’t tie you up?” the accent was definitely English Amie decided. She tried to work out the best thing to do.
Many of the others were now murmuring in what she thought she recognized as Togodian, certainly an African language.
“Shush,” she said, “Shush, I’m thinking.” She had no idea what time it was but she’d have to move fast. Even if she blended in with the women when they let them out in the morning, she was certain tomorrow she’d be discovered and she’d also be tied up. Tonight, was her, and their only chance.
She pulled out the knife from her waistband and reached out in the darkness and felt for a length of twine and started to saw through it. It only took a few seconds. The rope gave way and there was a gasp from one of the women.
As she worked, Amie’s mind snapped back to one Christmas when she and her mother went to a local farm selling fresh turkeys. The carcasses had all been thrown into a large wooden box, their pale bodies stripped of feathers with their feet tied together. When they’d tried to pull one out, it got tangled with several of the others and eventually one of the farm workers had come to help them free the bird her mother had chosen.
Amie worked as fast as she could, hacking away on another length of twine. It was like trying to untangle a huge ball of wool in the dark she thought while she worked as fast as she could. Her wrists ached and she could feel the muscles in her arm as she sawed away.
Amie in Africa Box Set 1 Page 46
