Cut for Life

by Lucinda E Clarke

  At last she was back on her feet, and after a good stretch she felt almost normal. Beehive handed her a water bottle, and the cool liquid flowing down her throat was sheer bliss. A few minutes later they were ready to leave.

  From a nearby rock, the dassie family watched their imminent departure, ready to reclaim their home from these rough intruders.

  Beehive came to an abrupt halt by a kopje and Amie nearly ran into him. He grabbed her arm and drew her towards a gap between two rocks and pointed.

  A huddled group of at least a dozen girls ranging in age from maybe seven to early teens was sitting in a clearing. To one side were several safari vehicles, around which lounged at least a dozen men all armed and keeping a watchful eye on the children. And Jabu had been right. Looking totally out of place in the middle of the African bush was a metal shipping container on the back of a lorry. The rear doors were open with a ramp sloping down to the ground but from this angle it was impossible to see inside it.

  Beehive walked a few metres in one direction and then a few metres in the other. He scratched his head and then checked the signs again. He looked at Amie and held up three fingers, pointing one way and then three fingers on his other hand pointing the opposite way.

  “They split up!” This was something that Amie hadn’t considered. But why would they do that? The only reason she could think of was they were scouting round to the side of the camp for a better view. On either edge of the long valley the hills rose several meters, interspersed with great granite outcrops.

  Beehive stood and stared at her, he was waiting for a decision as to which set of tracks they should follow. More decisions, Amie muttered to herself. They must have split up for a reason, and the only one she could think of was they’d decided to approach the area from opposite sides. If only I knew which way Simon had gone, she thought. She tried to find out from Beehive which of the men had taken which direction, but it was hopeless, his English was so limited she couldn’t be sure he understood her question anyway. He only showed her three fingers each time pointing first one way and then the other.

  In the end, she closed her eyes, turned a few times and when she opened them again she was facing right. She indicated to Beehive to go that way. Not exactly scientific, but at least I made a decision.

  They set off again, following the invisible signs that half of their party had left nearly forty-eight hours earlier.

  This morning Beehive kept up a better pace, and they covered quite some distance before stopping briefly. He clutched her arm and pulled her to one side, lowering his hand to tell her to duck down behind one of the larger rocks, then pulled her forward so she could peep through.

  From here they had an even better view of the camp. Amie nudged Beehive. Could he see Simon, Bill, Jean-Pierre, any of the men? He surveyed the area in all directions then shook his head. She sighed. What now? The two of them could hardly storm in and threaten so many people. At the same time, it occurred to her that even with all eight of them they were up against enormous odds. They must inform the authorities and leave it up to them, a full-sized army would be perfect. That’s what sensible people would do, but then Amie had not been mixing with sensible people for a very long time. She also had her doubts that the authorities would be that willing to help. It was possible the men down there in the valley had close ties to important people in the government or the police. A gift of a few thousand Togodian or American dollars would ensure they were left undisturbed.

  Amie and Beehive couldn’t do anything sitting there, and they still hadn’t found the men, maybe they were already back at the vehicles.

  Beehive tugged at her arm and pointed to the sky showing her the circling vultures. He drew his finger across his throat. There was something ahead attracting the carrion. They slowed as they got nearer. Already Amie could smell the rotting flesh, intestines exposed to the air the metallic smell of dried blood. She held her nose and drew air in through her teeth as the stench got worse.

  As they rounded a large rock they disturbed the birds and many rose into the sky protesting like a coven of witches. Most of them perched on nearby branches or boulders waiting for the unwelcome arrivals to leave. A few stood their ground, resting their wide, clawed feet on the body they’d been devouring. Their beaks were glistening with blood and flesh, strips of slippery guts hanging from their mouths as they gulped down the torn meat as quickly as they could.

  It was Bill, or what remained of him.

  26 AMIE ABANDONED

  Beehive sidled closer to peer at the body. Amie kept her distance as her stomach heaved and she threw up her breakfast.

  The African merely gave the body a quick glance, shrugged his shoulders and continued on, following the tracks where the grass had been flattened.

  Amie hesitated. It seemed wrong just to abandon the man, leave him there to be devoured by the wildlife. Over to one side she spied a jackal. It stood stock still, watching and waiting for her to leave. It was too late to try and pile rocks over the man she’d only known for a short time, but as she trudged after Beehive she wondered if he’d had a wife and family in Pretoria or back in England. They would have no idea this had happened, who would tell them? How would they find out? All they knew is a husband and father flew out to Apatu and never returned. Perhaps it was best that way.

  Amie shuddered, first Trevor and now Bill. Had both of them been attacked by those bastards in charge of the children? The hair on Amie’s neck stood up, she could feel every muscle in her body tense, the adrenalin coursing through her veins. Every few metres she looked around as if unseen eyes were watching her. She couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering; she was really scared. It would almost be a relief for someone to jump out and grab her. It was the ‘not knowing’ feeling that rattled her. Also Bill had been another link to her past life, had he remembered her from her own funeral? His lack of recognition when they’d met again a couple of days earlier, indicated he’d forgotten all about it. Still, it was one more thread severed.

  They must have been upwind when they’d come across Bill’s remains, for the odour followed them for quite some time. What other animals would be attracted to the scent? Amie wondered, as she trudged after Beehive.

  Sometime later she called for him to stop. “Psssst,” she waved at him when he turned to face her. She was exhausted, she couldn’t go any further, every muscle screamed, every nerve tingled and her feet felt like lead. They were approaching dense undergrowth and she’d lost all sense of direction. Her legs buckled and she collapsed.

  Beehive shrugged then came back to stand beside her.

  Amie pointed to the ground, willing him to understand her. Were they still following the tracks which had run in the opposite direction? Were they going the same way as the others?

  But Beehive remained impassive. He either would not or could not tell her. She sighed in frustration. She had a feeling they were going further and further away from the children, there had been no other signs of the camp, and now it wasn’t even possible to see the container any more. The ground here was hilly, with deep gullies and the foliage was denser. She raised her eyebrows to Beehive but he just shrugged and then held out an empty water bottle. Ah, yes, she thought. Water! They were running low. Amie had a blinding headache and felt dizzy. Maybe Beehive was detouring to a water source. Yes, the thicker undergrowth suggested there was water.

  She struggled to her feet and continued after the tracker who by now was almost out of sight, striding through waist-high grasses, interspersed with acacia and fever trees the perfect terrain that could easily hide a pride of lions or even a small rhino. Amie did her best to follow the path he’d made as he bore off to the right. They were definitely leaving the camp area, the distant cloud-draped hills were now far away to their left and the morning sun was obscured by angry black ones which darkened the landscape and foretold rain.

  Eventually Beehive stopped, and Amie hastened to catch up with him; she could hear the rushing water now. Through the thicket sh
e glimpsed the river. The waters were still running fast and deep, a thick brown colour from the sedimentary mud at the bottom now swirling round like coffee-coloured whirlpools.

  The tracker slid down the shallow bank and dipped his bottle in the water. Amie hesitated but then slithered down to join him. It was dangerous to drink it, she knew that, but just as dangerous not to drink. She looked at the last half inch of clear, fresh, healthy water that remained in her bottle and downed it before filling it again with river water. It didn’t taste as bad as she expected. Even though she knew it wasn’t the right thing to do, she drank and drank and drank until her stomach was full. At one point she threw up, a thin green bile spewing from her mouth, but immediately she drank more; her body was begging for it.

  They filled all their empty bottles, skimming them across the surface to avoid the sand and other detritus that was carried in the fast-flowing waters before crawling back up the bank and collapsing under an umbrella acacia thorn tree. They could hear thunder rumbling in the distance, and lightning flashes lit up the sky on the other side of the hills. The rains were coming again.

  Amie leant her head back against the tree trunk and wondered what to do. Should they head back to the vehicles and return to Apatu for help? Who would help them? Tony and Charlie had supposedly been in the British Embassy – according to Jean-Pierre, but Simon’s colleagues hadn’t seen them, or the four girls. So Tony and Charlie were obviously involved, but what did that say about Jean-Pierre? Or the embassy staff? She couldn’t believe anyone there could be a party to child kidnapping and mutilation.

  What if she went to the American Embassy in Apatu? They might listen to her, but then she realised that although Simon had told her he’d brought her a new set of documents, he hadn’t actually given them to her. Perhaps he’d left them in the Toyota? And Simon? Was he still alive? Had they all been killed? She groaned. No, please don’t let that be true. She slumped down as waves of exhaustion swept through her body. She only meant to close her eyes for a second, but all at once the world turned black.

  She was woken by large rain drops falling on her head and trickling down inside her shirt. The skies had opened and the water was coming down in torrents. She looked around but couldn’t see Beehive anywhere. She got to her feet and tottered a few steps in each direction.

  He was gone.

  Her shoulders slumped, she felt like crying, but that was very un-spy-like, so she took four or five long breaths, feeling the oxygen pumping through her blood, bringing back some energy to her exhausted body. What should she do now? She made for some nearby rocks and crawled into a small space to shelter from the driving rain, putting the rifle behind her to keep it dry.

  Come on Amie, she told herself. You’ve been in worse situations than this. There is nothing you can do on your own. Either you go for help, or you scout around and check out the scene.

  The sensible option would be to go for help. So, she’d backtrack to where they’d left the vehicles and drive back to Apatu.

  The downpour didn’t last long. The clouds parted and the humidity shot up as the sun beat down once again.

  She scrambled out of her shelter and scanned the area. There was still no sign of Beehive. She didn’t think Ouma Adede would be too pleased if she found out he’d abandoned her alone in the bush. She was unsure which way to go. The landscape looked different, maybe it was the lack of shadows at this time of day but she would have to take an educated guess and hope for the best. She began to walk. The long grass whipped her cargo pants on either side as she followed the path they’d made earlier. She noticed a few broken sticks, and upturned stones which had been disturbed, hopefully by her feet or Beehive’s, confirming she was on the right track.

  She wanted to move faster. The clouds floated over the sun again, and although they cooled the air down a little, it was still hot and humid. She was afraid she would wander off in the wrong direction. Stopping to take a swig of the dirty river water, she thought she recognized the rocks where they had disturbed the dassies. She cast about, but the little animals were nowhere to be seen. With only their camouflage to protect them they were shy creatures and dived for cover when they heard her coming.

  One moment she was sweating in the heat, the next shivering under heavy clouds. She hugged herself and veered off to the left. Now she was walking over large areas of embedded rock and it was impossible to see any tracks made earlier. She slogged on, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, ignoring the aches and pains and the feeling of utter helplessness.

  I must have missed the trucks, probably walked right past them. I’m sure we didn’t walk this far before we got to the rocks, she thought. She stopped and looked round again. Why, oh, why was she being so stupid? She should have taken notice of the landmarks, but then she hadn’t expected she’d be making this journey on her own, she’d trusted Beehive to find the way. The anger welled up inside her. How dare he leave her like that! At least together they could have faced any danger, relied on each other. She guessed he’d been freaked out by Bill’s death and Trevor’s wound. His own personal survival could far outweigh any loyalty he might have for Amie or any wrath from Ouma Adede. She thought he would probably lie to the witch doctor and hope Amie never returned to contradict him.

  She focused on a tall Leadwood tree and walked towards it in a straight line. If she hadn’t seen the vehicles by the time she reached it, then she would double back at an angle. Her spirits lifted as she carefully stepped over a broken tree trunk lying in her path. She had come this way before, right? Through a sudden break in the trees, she could see far over to her right, patches of black barren landscape ravaged by fire. The remaining trees stood out like sentinels against the scorched earth and gave Amie some idea of her bearings.

  A sudden rustling in the undergrowth to her right made her freeze. She glanced around, but there was no tree to climb, no rocks to clamber up, nowhere to hide. She froze, still as a statue, concentrating on keeping her breathing under control. Her heart was racing, her palms felt damp as she clutched the rifle ready to flick the safety catch off. She willed the adrenalin not to race through her veins, praying she wouldn’t sweat too much, alerting a predator as to how scared she was. Animals could smell fear, and she was feeling weak enough already without having to fend off a creature intent on killing her.

  She stood there without moving a muscle, hoping against hope that the unseen creature would move away. She listened. There wasn’t a sound, even the birds had fallen silent. The sun beat down on her head, and the effort of remaining absolutely still was beginning to make her dizzy. The trees, grasses and bushes appeared to dance in front of her eyes and she could feel herself swaying. Deliberately she put one foot behind her and took a step backwards then another, keeping her eyes trained on the long grasses where the noises had come from. The rustling started again, and once more she stiffened. A loud moan emanated from the grass. She stepped back again but then paused, the moaning got louder; it didn’t sound like any animal she knew.

  She took a step forward, curious to see if it was human, another of their party? Injured maybe? She hesitated. What if she was wrong? What if she walked towards a predator lying in wait? What could it be? A lion, rhino, possibly a baby left while its mother went hunting? It would be suicidal to get too close. She took another two steps backwards and bumped into something hard and almost lost her balance. She took a deep breath and glanced behind her. She was hard up against one of the red termite mounds that were dotted around the landscape. As she turned to move away from it the moaning started again. “Oh! Merde!” cried a familiar voice.

  “Jean-Pierre?” Amie took a hesitant step towards the rustling which had begun again, in earnest this time. It had to be Jean-Pierre, who else would be swearing in French?

  “Where are you? Where are you, Jean-Pierre. I can’t see you!” She rushed through the long grass now dotted with trees, searching frantically. He had to be here somewhere.

  “Ah, ma petite belle,
I am here, follow my voice, cherie. Oh, mon Dieu, thank you!”

  Her spirits rose, she was no longer alone, and he’d know what had happened to the others, he could tell her if Simon was hurt or alive.

  She was in such a panic that she tripped over his feet and landed on top of him.

  “Oof,” he gasped as her elbows connected with his chest. “You are like an angel, yes? Come to save me and ...” he broke off and gave a loud groan.

  “Oh, have I hurt you? I’m so sorry.” Amie scrambled off him.

  “No, non. Stay there,” said Jean-Pierre with a weak smile. “To see your beautiful face it takes away all the pain.”

  Amie knelt down beside him. “Oh, Jean-Pierre, are you hurt? Where is it painful?”

  “Ah, it is nothing, just a small wound.” He pointed to his left leg. “A little bullet, but now I have had the rest I will soon be fit again.”

  Amie went to examine the bloodstained jeans, but he waved her away. “No, you must not touch it. See, it is best the trousers they keep the blood in.”

  She could see what he meant. Rather than wear more comfortable jeans, Jean-Pierre’s were fashionably tight and could indeed be acting as a tourniquet of sorts.

  “Here, can you walk? I’ll help you back to the vehicles. We can clean you up properly. Where are the others? Simon, is he OK?”

  “Your Simon and the others they escaped. They ran off that way.” He pointed towards the hills.

  “And they left you here?” Amie was shocked.

  Jean-Pierre hesitated for a second. “They did not know I was hit. Maybe even now they look for me.”

  His reply did nothing to reassure Amie, but there was no time to consider his reply now. “Can you stand?”