Journey from Darkness

by Gareth Crocker

  Turning away, he heard two final things.

  The hungry laughter of the hyenas as they waited.

  And the screams of a dead man, pleading for his life.

  52

  Joe had no real idea of how far he had walked, only that he had been doing it for a long time. The black canopy that stretched above him had broken free of its tethers and was now weakening on the horizon. He was only vaguely aware of the changes occurring around him, the sounds of crickets and owls morphing into those of grasshoppers and swallows. All that he could think of, all that there was space for in his mind, was what he had done. He kept replaying the events of the past few hours over in his mind. A part of him was deeply repulsed by his actions, sickened even, but another part – the more substantial portion – believed he had committed a necessary evil. He was convinced that Xavier and his brother would have continued their killing spree unabated had he not intervened. And there was little doubt in his mind that Noah and Morgan would also have died at their hands. Still, he felt monstrous. What disturbed him most was the ease with which he had murdered them and the degree of violence he had brought to their deaths.

  He knew that Noah would soon find their bodies and would quickly establish what had happened. And then, he would come after him. Regardless of whatever personal bonds had developed between them, the law, and Noah’s obsession with it, compelled him to. But right now none of that really seemed to matter. Joe had somewhere he needed to be and he was in a rush to get there. As he reached the top of a steep rise, above a soft and green valley, he hastened into a run. Despite his lack of sleep, the fragrant early-morning air felt refreshing against his body. He skipped across a large boulder and hurdled over the neck of a fallen tree. As the scent of the bush filled his lungs, he noticed a small pan of water in the distance and suddenly realised how thirsty he was. He turned towards it. Reaching the water’s edge, he sank to his knees and pushed his hands through the glassy surface. Splashing his face, his breath caught as the cold water trickled down his neck. He leaned over and drank until he could feel his stomach stretch and bloat. With his thirst quenched, he made cups of his hands and threw water over his head. The once-clear fluid now formed red veins down his face and chest. Although stubborn at first, the rust in his hair soon gave way to a dark brown.

  A man named Joe Rawlins had befriended two policemen and then hunted down and executed a pair of killers. He was a detective who wore glasses and had red hair. And at the edge of a small pan of water, had now been murdered by another man. As the ripples slowly cleared, and the water again fell still, Joe Rawlins looked down at his reflection. The person who stared back at him had finally avenged the death of Shawu’s family.

  Blood had been paid for with blood.

  His name was Derek Hughes.

  53

  Xavier’s eyelids hung open like empty oyster shells, their pearls long since pilfered by vultures. There were pockmarks and deep gouges in his neck and back and both his arms were missing, gnawed off at the bicep and shoulder respectively. The ground around his body was soiled black and stank of a coppery death. Ants circled the stained earth, gorging themselves. Morgan knelt down and took a closer look at the deep cuts above Xavier’s trapped leg. ‘Have you seen these?’

  Noah nodded, grim-faced. ‘He must’ve tried to free himself, but couldn’t finish the job.’

  ‘How long do you think he’s been here?’

  ‘A day at the most. The killings followed each other.’

  They had already discovered what turned out to be Xavier’s brother in the ruins of an old stone house only a few miles away. They had been led to his corpse by a young woman who claimed to have been raped and beaten by both men, her bruised and swollen face lending credence to her story. She was adamant that Xavier’s brother was planning to murder her and would have gone through with it had she not been rescued by a stranger whose name she claimed not to know. Not that Noah or Morgan were in any doubt as to his identity.

  ‘And this?’ Morgan asked, pointing to the burnt-out crucifix.

  Noah’s eyes moved slowly over the cross. ‘I don’t know. It must’ve been part of the trap.’

  ‘But why would Joe go to the trouble of building something as … damn big … as this?’

  ‘Maybe he needed to lure Xavier out from the cabin.’

  ‘I suppose, but it seems so elaborate. And why a crucifix?’

  Noah wiped his brow with a stark white handkerchief and stared up at the sky. ‘I should’ve done something to stop him.’

  Morgan allowed some space for his words to settle. ‘These men really were going to come after us. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘What are you saying, Morgan? You think what he did was right? You think this is right?’

  ‘I don’t know what I think right now. But he may have saved our lives. That’s got to count for something.’

  Noah’s head was pounding, plagued by both an approaching migraine and the real headache of a double murder. ‘Look, Morgan, I liked Joe. I really did. But you understand we’ve got to bring him in for this? We don’t have any choice here.’

  Morgan paused before responding. ‘Don’t we?’

  ‘What kind of question is that? We know he did this. We can’t just turn our backs on it.’

  ‘I don’t know that we can’t.’

  ‘Listen to me, Morgan. If you have a problem with us going after him then that’s something you’re going to have to deal with. And fast.’

  ‘Take it easy. I’m just trying to make sense of all of this.’

  ‘Well, don’t waste too much time.’ He glared at his partner for a moment and then turned towards the hut, to where the young woman was waiting for them in their truck. As he strode ahead of Morgan, questions circled in his mind. Why the elaborate murders? Why was Xavier trapped and then made to suffer? Why had the brother been beaten up and then shot in the goddamn face? These weren’t murders motivated by self-preservation, he suddenly realised, they were slaughter scenes.

  He stopped walking and held out his arms. ‘It’s revenge.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘The murders. Think about it. Both men had clearly been made to suffer, as though they were being punished for something … a penance. If the only reason Joe wanted them dead was to keep us alive, then there was a much simpler and cleaner way of doing it. A more humane way. In fact, this was about as inhumane as you could make it.’

  Morgan folded his arms and considered the facts.

  ‘Remember how aggressive he was with them at the bar?’ Noah continued, the pieces now slipping into place. ‘He already wanted them dead then. I think this was some kind of retribution for something. There’s history between them.’

  ‘All right, I take the point. But retribution for what? What could they have done to him?’

  ‘Maybe it was something they took from him. Or someone. If we can find out what, then perhaps we’ll know where to start looking. He said he was from Europe … so were they. It might even have something to do with the war.’

  As more questions gathered in Noah’s mind, the young woman stepped out the truck and walked over to them. ‘I was told to give this to you.’ She reached down the front of her dress and withdrew a crumpled envelope. ‘He wanted me to wait until after you’d seen the bodies.’

  ‘You’ve had this all along?’

  She nodded. ‘He saved my life. I was happy to oblige him.’

  ‘What’s in it?’

  ‘I haven’t read it, but he told me what it was.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A confession.’

  Noah accepted the envelope. He was about to tear it open when he paused. ‘And why could you only give it to us now?’

  The woman shrugged. ‘I don’t know. You’re the detective. Maybe he wanted a head start.’

  54

  Derek was well aware of the risk he had taken in leaving Shawu on her own, isolated and exposed for long stretches at a time. It was not a decision he had come to l
ightly but, in the end, he had not been able to help himself. After watching for a second time as Shawu tried to resurrect her dead family, the part of him that had survived the war – the part capable of killing – had been resurrected instead. For days he had tried to ignore its voice, its relentless whispers, but all to no avail. Eventually, it wore him down until he was all but powerless to deny it. And so, relying on the increasingly remote terrain to keep Shawu hidden from eyes that would bring her harm, he had made his decision. He would avenge the deaths of Shawu’s family and bring a halt to the slaughter. Of some comfort to him was the knowledge that the risk had not been entirely blind. Despite the time he had spent with Noah and Morgan, he had still been able to reconnect with Shawu by travelling down the river on horseback for all but two of the seven days that he had lived as Detective Joe Rawlins. Only his final confrontations with the brothers had kept him away completely. Now, as his horse galloped along the river bed, there was no sign of Shawu. And with every stride, his concern grew.

  As the miles stretched out, he half-expected to round a corner and find her lying in a forlorn heap, her tusks freshly hewn from her face. Had going after the brothers really been worth it? His mind kept accusing him, torturing him. What if it had cost Shawu her life?

  He tightened his grip on the reins and urged the tiring horse to speed up. As the Limpopo meandered back on itself, he stared down another half-mile of empty river bed. There was nothing ahead of him but sand, an endless vein of chalk. More out of frustration than in hope, he began to call out for Shawu. But his words had no effect, dissolving uselessly in the wind.

  ‘Where are you, Shawu?’ he whispered.

  He looked up, searching for any sinister specks in the sky, but could see none. That, he thought, was a positive sign. Unless, it suddenly occurred to him, the raptors had already descended. The thought made him feel nauseous and was further evidence of his exhausted mind. He was now only a few dozen miles from the Bechuanaland border. If poachers had brought her down here, so late in her journey, he knew he would never truly recover from it. And he would never forgive himself.

  As the grey mare struggled over a tangle of roots, he tried to work out how many miles they had covered.

  Too many, a voice in his head fired back.

  How far could Shawu possibly have travelled in only two days? He knew that her elevated pace – for which he still had no explanation – meant that she would have covered more ground than before. But she didn’t have goddamn wings, he thought. There was a limit to how far she could travel. If he didn’t find her in the next few miles, it could only mean one thing: At some point, she had decided to leave the river. And, if that were true, he knew he would never see her again. As imperious as she was, looking for her in the open bush would be an almost impossible task. As the sun dipped towards a string of faint mountains on the horizon, Derek felt a raft of emotion swell in his chest. Things were beginning to unravel.

  Trying to maintain his composure, he again urged the mare forward. ‘Please … just a bit further. I’m sorry,’ he called down to her, guilty at how hard he was pushing her.

  As they rounded yet another kink in the river, his eye caught something in the distance. He rose up off the saddle and leaned forward, squinting in the wind.

  Something was churning up the river dust.

  Unfortunately, a row of large boulders now lay across the river, blocking their path and obscuring his view. He pulled back on the reins and dismounted before the horse had even come to a halt. Flailing to keep his balance, his eyes remained fixed on the dust cloud ahead of him.

  Running now, he quickly hurdled the rocks, his pulse climbing.

  He blinked, trying to focus through the sand plume, and then blinked again.

  Dark shadows began to drift together.

  Dust … dust … shadow … dust … shadow … shadow …

  And then, an ear – the bulge of Africa – wafted through the cloud.

  ‘Shawu,’ he suddenly shouted. ‘Shawwwwuuuu!’

  But his words fell short. Throwing off his pack, he broke into a full sprint, cupping his hands over his mouth. ‘Shawwwwwuuuuu!’

  The great elephant’s stride seemed to slow – falter almost – and, as it did, Derek lost his own footing and crashed down onto the splintered edges of an old tree stump. Pain billowed through his chest and shuddered into his spine. He looked up and tried to call out again, but was no longer able to. He could barely draw breath.

  ‘Shawu,’ he whispered.

  But she had heard his last call and was turning around.

  She stood for a moment, confused, scanning the river. Derek waved a hand and she spotted the movement.

  ‘You’re alive,’ he whispered, his mouth curling into a grateful smile. Relief flooded through him.

  As she headed towards him, Derek could feel the hairs on his body rising up.

  Wiping his eyes, and doing his best not to fall apart, he remained on his back. As she approached him, majestically backlit by the sun, he held out an arm.

  What happened next he knew would live with him for the rest of his life.

  This ancient elephant, who had suffered so gravely at the hands of humans – who had lost her entire family to them – slowly bowed her head until her tusk was touching Derek’s outstretched hand.

  He stared at her, unsure at first, and then wrapped his fingers around the immense white bone.

  And then, effortlessly, and with great care, she pulled him from the sand.

  55

  Noah shifted back in his chair and read Derek’s letter. Again. Just as the girl had claimed, it was a confession but, in truth, it was far more than that. Although by no means a lengthy correspondence, it documented the events building up to Derek’s decision to fake his identity and revealed how he had overheard Xavier’s plan to kill the three of them in the coming days. The letter also detailed how the brothers had planned to burn Noah on the large wooden crucifix that they had found beside Xavier’s body.

  ‘You realise he was in an impossible position either way?’ Morgan said, looking up from his coffee.

  Noah glanced at his partner, but said nothing.

  ‘He knew that even if he came to us with this, we still wouldn’t have done anything. His only choice was to act. For himself and for us.’

  ‘Act? I think the word you’re looking for is murder.’

  ‘He probably saved our lives, Noah. Can you really not accept that?’

  ‘Talking about killing and actually doing it are completely different things. If every threat in the world was followed up, we’d be living in a very empty place,’ he replied, and then held up the letter. ‘Besides, you’re assuming everything in here is valid. Have you forgotten that this was written by a man we’ve never truly met?’

  Morgan looked away and slowly shook his head.

  ‘Say it!’ Noah demanded, his lips pursing together.

  ‘You don’t want to hear it, believe me.’

  ‘No, please. I insist. Regale me with your views!’

  ‘Fine. You’re so obsessed with the law that it blinds you to the truth of what’s really going on here. The law’s not perfect, Noah.’

  ‘You think I’m a fool? You think I don’t know that?’

  This time it was Morgan’s turn not to reply.

  ‘It’s not about that! It’s about who decides what’s right. Me? You? Do we decide where the law has relevance and where it can be ignored to suit us? If that’s the case, where do you think that’ll lead us? I know the law isn’t perfect, Morgan, but it’s sure as hell better than the alternative. Even if that means that sometimes we have to suffer for it.’

  ‘We have to suffer? Don’t you mean Derek?’

  ‘You think this won’t live with me? Think it won’t bloody haunt me?’

  Morgan leaned forward, an uncharacteristic note of anger in his voice. ‘For once, Noah, just let it go. Nobody will know. That letter you’re holding is all that truly connects Derek to this. Leave him be.’
>
  ‘Listen to yourself,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘I’ll know, all right. I’ll know. And nobody gets a free pass.’

  Morgan sighed and laced his hands behind his head. ‘As justice goes, this is an absolute travesty. And you know it.’

  ‘A man can’t do what Derek’s done and just expect to walk away.’

  ‘Look, as my duty to you, I’ll abide by whatever you decide, but I want you to know that I don’t agree with this. Not this time.’

  ‘If I had another choice, Morgan, I’d take it.’

  ‘Will you at least allow him to see the elephant over the border?’

  Noah again did not respond, but instead looked back down at the letter. His eyes were drawn to the last few lines.

  If everything goes as planned, Shawu and I will reach the Bechuanaland border in the hours before nightfall on Sunday. If you decide to come for me, all I ask is that you allow me to watch her cross over. You have my word that I will then come quietly to answer for what I have done.

  It’s all I ask of you.

  Derek Hughes

  Noah Wright took great pride in being a detective and, most of the time, enjoyed what he did. It was satisfying and rewarding work. But then there were those days that eclipsed all the good ones and made him question what he was doing with his life.

  Sunday, he knew, would be one of those days.

  He looked up at Morgan and shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. I really do wish things could be different.’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ Morgan nodded, turning away. ‘So do I.’

  56

  By Derek’s calculations they were now less than forty miles from the border. They still had a fair way to travel, but in the context of their journey they were finally nearing the end. Knowing how close he was to delivering Shawu to the relative safety of Bechuanaland, but also aware of how quickly things could change, he was becoming increasingly anxious. Every shadow, every movement, every flap of a bird’s wing meant a potential poacher. And each flash of light, each reflection, was the glint of a rifle. As he scanned the banks of the river, his thoughts turned to Noah and the letter he had left for him. What were his chances that the detective would allow him to cross over the border with Shawu? Was there any hope at all that he would be permitted to pass?