“Amie?” was the astonished reply.
“Ben? Is that Ben?”
“Yes. Sssh.”
“Where are the others?” Amie knew she was wasting time talking when they should be escaping, but she had to know.
“Gone. They took them away this afternoon in a vehicle. I think they went with the visitors.”
Amie’s heart sank, all this was for nothing. She was too late, she’d waited too long. She was no nearer rescuing Jonathon, and now she had no idea where he was. She snapped herself out of her stupor and sprang into action. Grabbing his arm she tried to pull him to his feet. At least she could rescue Ben.
“Come, follow me,” she hissed, “this way.” But when she saw the way Ben was struggling to get up onto his knees, she saw that he was hurt.
“What’s the matter?”
“I cannot walk,” he replied. “But I can crawl.”
“It’s the best way of getting around this camp in the dark,” Amie whispered. “As soon as we get outside, we go straight into the bush and then bear left and cross the river. Do you think you can manage that?”
“I will try my hardest,” and Ben followed Amie on all fours, but as she poked her head out of the tent, she came face to face with Shalima.
“New part of the plan, right?” hissed her new friend. “I’m gonna try and take that Land Rover and if we drive down river, we can meet you further downstream. OK?”
“But …”
“Look, I have supplies,” Shalima indicated the canvas bag. “It’s too heavy to carry far, but with wheels we can get away much faster. He can help me,” she pointed at Ben. “We’ll use the farthest one. Where are the others?”
“They’re not here. They were taken away,” Amie sighed.
“OK, you cross the river with the women and go downstream. We’ll meet you later,” and with that Shalima disappeared into the darkness.
Amie helped Ben out through the torn gap in the tent and, pushing her shoulder under his arm, she helped him to shuffle towards the vehicles parked beside the tents. They were making good progress when Amie noticed the carcass of the lion was between them and the vehicles, which wouldn’t have been a problem - except for the hyena. Drawn by the smell of blood, it had been the first to arrive, and was now gorging itself on the fresh meat.
The animal had heard them and lifted its head, its muzzle smeared with blood. It glared malevolently at them. Amie had no idea if it was likely to attack, or, if they gave it a wide berth it wouldn’t feel threatened and carry on eating. This new danger was blocking their path to the vehicles, so what were they going to do?
Amie froze. She knew that hyena attacks on humans were extremely rare, but Dirk had warned her they were not cowardly creatures. They’d been known to chase lions off a kill and they didn’t always scavenge, but killed for themselves. Sadly, the patterns and behaviour of many of Africa’s wildlife had changed due to declining habitats and the intrusion of man. They had always followed the rules, but now the rules were changing.
That doesn’t help, thought Amie, but she had little choice. There was no way Ben could cross the river in his condition. They’d come this far; there was no going back now. While she was still hesitating, Shalima appeared on the other side of the carcass and aimed a rifle at the creature.
Amie wanted to scream at her to stop, but her throat closed and although she opened her mouth, no words came out.
But Shalima didn’t fire the gun. She turned it around, and like an ace cricketer at a one-day match, she swung the butt against the hyena’s body as if she was going for a six. The animal was flung into the air, somersaulted and fell back onto the corpse of the lion, emitting a sound somewhere between a screech and a howl.
As fast as she could, Amie urged Ben forwards. Shalima raced over and together they dragged him to the nearest vehicle and bundled him onto the back seat. He stifled his groans as best he could, while Shalima disappeared under the steering wheel. Less than a minute later the engine roared into life, she clambered into the driver’s seat and engaged first gear.
The Land Rover was not the only thing to come to life. The scream from the hyena had woken several of the men and dark figures rolled out of the tents.
“Go,” hissed Amie, “I’ll go back to help the others. Go!”
She sprinted away from the truck, the smoke belching from its exhaust pipe. Shalima roared off across the savannah, swerving violently every time she approached a termite mound; some were taller than a man and as solid as a rock. She used the sidelights sparingly, putting them on long enough to see a few metres ahead and then turning them off for a few seconds. She had no idea if this would confuse her pursuers, but she hoped so. Bullets whistled around her when she pulled away, but very soon the vehicle was out of range.
Taking advantage of the chaos in the camp, and the men running into the clouds of dust left by Shalima, Amie managed to slip unnoticed back to the riverside. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thrown herself into the front seat beside Shalima and raced to safety. What had happened to the shy young girl from London? She only knew she’d acted on pure instinct and having found Angelina, she wasn’t going to leave her again.
The sound of the vehicle revving up, had galvanized Phumelo into action and she finally allowed herself to be dragged into the water. They started to wade across the river, but she lost her footing and disappeared under the surface, kicking and thrashing. Mrs Motswezi grabbed her, but one of the soldiers had seen them. He raised his rifle and took aim. The first few bullets flew over their heads, but the next volley sprayed the water all around them.
Mrs Motswezi tried to propel her sister towards the far bank, but by now she was panicking and out of control. As her head came out of the water, she dug her fingers into Nomsa’s shoulders and clung on for dear life. She was threatening to pull them both under and all the while the bullets danced around them like shooting stars.
The commander screeched when he saw what was happening. He didn’t want them killed but taken alive. Snatching the gun out of the soldier’s hands he shoved him towards the river. The soldier hesitated, but another stream of abuse from his superior persuaded him to run down the bank. He sat down to take his boots off, but in response to violent yells from the shore, he waded into the water towards the two scared women.
There was a flurry as the river turned into a washing machine and an enormous hungry crocodile grabbed the soldier in gaping jaws and pulled him under. The soldier screamed in terror before he disappeared. For a second no one moved, but the spectacle was enough to galvanize Phumelo into action and they both made for the opposite shore at breakneck speed.
A group gathered on the bank and peered into the darkness. One of them shone a torch on the river illuminating the bloody stain as it rose to the surface. They all watched in horror as the crocodile corkscrewed over and over tearing its prey limb from limb. No one was prepared to venture into the water now, despite the screamed commands from their leader.
The monster’s tail appeared briefly, and another shape slid silently through the water to join in. A battle ensued under the rolling spray. Mud churned from the bottom of the river, mixed with blood and white froth which caused a maelstrom of images, only revealed as the clouds drifted away from the moon.
Amie had hurtled away from the camp further downstream, but was still close enough to have heard the drama. She now knew no stretch of the river would be safe. She took stock. There was no way she could go much further on the camp side of the river. There were fewer bushes along this stretch and she’d be right out in the open, a perfect target for a bullet. She slipped her burqa off and wrapped it round her left arm over the gun, and holding her breath slipped into the water. If she was attacked, maybe, just maybe she could hit the creature hard on the nose and stun it long enough for her to escape. She thought of Angelina, Mrs Motswezi and Phumelo on the far side and didn’t stop, even when she heard another shot ring out. She didn’t think it was aimed at her. Were they trying to kill the cro
codile or the escapees?
She waded through the waist-high water, trying not to attract attention, and holding the burqa-covered gun out of the river. She was tempted to swim; she could keep a lower profile, but by doing that, there was no way she could keep the gun dry. She clamped her jaws tight and kept her eyes focused on the far bank. If she looked back now she’d lose her nerve.
More bullets were fired. There was another scream and Amie imagined the water changing colour as it mixed once more with blood. Was it from the soldier, the crocodile or one of the women? It was tempting to run, but safer to make as little turbulence as possible. She was terrified of attracting more of the prehistoric beasts. Step by step she got closer to the opposite bank, and it took all her willpower not to leap onto the shore at the last minute. Crocodiles were quite capable of galloping out of the water and dragging their victims back below the surface. It was no accident these reptiles had survived for millions of years, they were superbly adapted assassins.
Amie crawled to the nearest bushes and heaved a sigh of relief. At that moment the clouds parted again and the moon shone on the scene below. She couldn’t resist looking back, but all she could see was a line of soldiers standing on the edge of the river, rifles aimed, while their commander screamed at them to plunge in and follow the escapees. His words had no effect. The men were too terrified.
She ducked away from the river and scaled the hill, keeping her movements smooth and slow rather than risk catching the eye of an observant sniper. She looked right and left, but there was no sign of either Mrs Motswezi, Phumelo or Angelina.
She paused halfway up the bank. Should she stay for a few minutes to wait for the others, or make as rapid an escape as possible? A rustling in the bushes made her start, and something touched her hand, at first furtively and then it held on fast. Looking down she gazed into Angelina’s eyes. Her first instinct was to grab the child, hug her, fuss over her and reassure her, but now was not the moment. She squeezed the small hand back, and made a gentle shushing noise and she thought she saw Angelina nod in the darkness.
A huge lump rose in Amie’s throat. She could hardly believe they were together again. What were the chances of finding one small African child two years after a civil war where thousands had been killed? But miracles did happen and this was one of them. She sent up a brief prayer to whoever was in charge, and reminded herself they were not in the clear yet.
12 CROSSING THE RIVER
After their dip in the water, the cool air made both Amie and Angelina cold as they worked their way further up the ridge and ducked down over the top before turning east parallel to the far riverbank. Amie kept looking back to see if she could see Mrs Motswezi and her sister, but there was no sign of them.
Suddenly there was an enormous explosion from the direction of the camp and the reflections of the flames were mirrored in the water. Amie gasped and Angelina squealed when they saw what had happened. Shalima must have set off one of the explosives, or were the soldiers throwing missiles at them? Not a chance of hitting us here, thought Amie as she again hurried Angelina along, but as they moved farther away, she felt uneasy. Several times she thought she heard footsteps behind them, but whenever she glanced over her shoulder, she saw nothing.
Angelina was sobbing and beginning to lag and Amie knew she was struggling to keep up. She’d have to slow down; the child was gasping for breath and limping. Amie sank to the ground and pulled Angelina to her. Her little feet had several large gashes on the soles. While African children often ran around barefoot, Angelina must have stood on something sharp in the dark. The best she could do for her now was to tear strips off her shirt and wrap the material round like a bandage to protect them. It was easier said than done, as Amie hacked at the material with her knife. She was sweating as she worked as fast as she could, they were wasting valuable time and there was still no sign of Mrs Motswezi and Phumelo. Where were they?
Lifting Angelina to her feet Amie nodded and smiled, urging her on again. It broke her heart to be so cruel to the child, but Angelina appeared to understand the urgency and bravely squeezed Amie’s hand in the dark as they continued their frantic dash, slipping and sliding on the loose earth, still damp from the torrential downpour only hours before.
Meanwhile Shalima was following the river on the other side, bumping over the rough ground causing Ben to moan in pain.
“Sorry,” said Shalima cheerfully. “Best I can do. Not my bleedin’ fault if they ain’t finished the motorway yet.”
“What?” Ben didn’t have the faintest idea what she was talking about. He shifted his position on the back seat, to get as comfortable as possible.
“No, do not slow down,” he said bravely. “They will be after us.”
“Nah,” Shalima giggled, high on an adrenaline rush. “Not bloody likely, not unless they wanna drive on flat tyres.” Her laugh held a touch of hysteria.
“You … you disabled the other truck?” Ben asked in amazement. This girl thought of everything.
“Sure did. Don’t want those monkeys after us, do we?”
Ben smiled in the darkness and leant his head back against the seat. For now, he was content to let Shalima take charge; she seemed to have everything under control.
Stopping to bandage Angelina’s feet had given Mrs Motswezi time to catch up. She nearly gave them both a heart attack when she appeared out of the gloom. One minute Amie and Angelina were alone and the next, she was right there beside them. Amie would never, ever get used to the Africans’ ability to materialize from nowhere.
They hugged each other fiercely, Angelina squeaking in delight, but they had only taken a few more steps when Amie saw that Mrs Motswezi was alone.
“But where … where’s …?” she asked, but her old friend shook her head and hurried on ahead. Amie knew better than to talk at this time, she would not pry but allow the woman time to grieve in silence. They carried on, knowing they would soon need to cross back over the ridge and make once again for the river. Since none of them knew the area, and the British teenager had changed the plans at the last minute, they hadn’t specified an exact meeting place. Amie prayed they’d be able find Ben and Shalima again.
The journey seemed to last for ages as they doggedly put one foot in front of another, not stopping to rest. Their breathing became ragged, gasps louder and legs and arms ached as they skirted trees, shrubs and termite mounds. So far, they’d seen no animals, and Amie hadn’t even given that danger a thought as they walked blindly further and further away from the camp. Still Amie couldn’t shake off the feeling something was stalking them. It never came any closer but never felt further away. She thought about asking Mrs Motswezi if she sensed it too, but she didn’t want to frighten Angelina, so she held on tightly to her little hand and kept going.
The night soon gave way to the pre-dawn light. Now they could see more easily, but it also increased the risk of being spotted. They had no way of knowing how determined the camp commander would be to follow them and make sure no one got out alive. At least, she reasoned, it would be easier to spot the Land Rover on the other side of the river.
Just before the sun crept over the horizon, they made their way up the slope and peeked over the top of the low-lying ridge that separated them from the river. They could see it shimmering in the early light, flowing steadily towards the sea. What they couldn’t see was any form of vehicle.
“How far have we come?” Amie asked Mrs Motswezi, but the woman simply shrugged her shoulders. In the rural areas, distances were most often measured in days travelling by foot. Disappointed, they dropped back down from the ridge and continued trudging, but they’d soon have to cross it again to go down to the river to drink. Already the air was beginning to warm up and Amie could feel the sweat starting to trickle under her armpits and run down her back.
She suggested they stop and rest for a few moments, while she checked out Angelina’s feet now there was enough light to see what the problem was. When she untied the bandages, she was
shocked to see the soles of both her feet were caked in blood. The child must have been in agony yet not once had she complained. The Africans were stoic but this was taking it to the extreme.
Mrs Motswezi ripped the hem of her dress and used it to pad the bottom of Angelina’s feet and Amie reattached the bandages.
Angelia gave her a huge smile and wrapped her arms around her neck in a hug. Amie’s eyes filled with tears as she held the child gently against her body.
“Let’s try and make for that large tree over there,” she said disentangling herself, “and then go down to the river. We need to bathe Angelina’s feet and get all the dirt out. We don’t want you to get sick, do we?” Angelina shook her head.
Amie was suddenly overwhelmed with the responsibility of protecting this child. Now she’d found her again, there was no way she could abandon her, and she wasn’t sure how she’d cope in the future. What did she have to offer her? How would she feed, clothe and educate her? Was the only answer to take her back to England? But they would never let her stay, would they?
The questions flew round her head, but Mrs Motswezi got to her feet and nodded. They must push on.
“Where the effing hell are they?” Shalima had climbed up on the roof of the Land Rover and peered in all directions. She’d chosen to stop by the river opposite a large tree on the other bank, hoping they might choose that as a landmark. Even from her lofty position, she couldn’t see over the ridge, and if they had any sense, they’d stay out of sight as long as possible. She was sure the soldiers had seen them going downstream.
“You cannot see them?” asked Ben from the back seat. He was in a great deal of pain, but refused to make a fuss.
Shalima clambered down and peered in through the back window. “So, what’s the matter with you?” she asked.
Amie in Africa Box Set 1 Page 51
