Savages

by Shirley Conran

  The person they all trusted was Annie. Nobody found her threatening, she had a natural caution, she was a nurturer, she was used to organizing things for those four huge sons and a demanding husband. So, much to her surprise, Annie was voted leader.

  As the fire died down, Annie summarized their situation. “We can stay here, or we can go to Katanga, or we can build another raft and leave. It’s a difficult decision, because there’s a lot to be said for each alternative. When that’s the case, it generally doesn’t matter which decision you make, so let’s vote on it.”

  Patty, Carey and Annie voted to build another raft—which, because of their reduced manpower, would probably take them six days.

  “Okay, Mother Bear,” Suzy said. She looked glumly at her torn and callused hands. “I swore I was never going to have the sort of hands my ma had, because I wasn’t going to lead the sort of life my ma did—scrubbing hospital floors. Once she’d finished, it was time to start again. But now I’ve got a worse job than she ever had.”

  Annie said, “We haven’t had cave-climbing or self-defense practice for two days. Can you see to that tomorrow, Patty? Silvana will organize the lookout, I’ll do the cooking, Carey’s responsible for getting our food and Suzy will do water duty as usual.”

  Suzy said bitterly, “Why can’t one of you invent the water wheel?”

  Annie said, “There’s one other thing. Do you remember that Jonathan wanted us to do loners?”

  They nodded. Nobody had previously seen the necessity for spending a night alone in the lean-to. Toughen you up, Jonathan had suggested, but when they all objected, he hadn’t pushed the idea. Jonathan had been by no means certain that they would all survive; that was why he had wanted them to learn to be alone.

  Annie said, “We’re going to practice being alone. We’ll put the equipment in Jonathan’s hut and take turns spending a night in the lean-to. I’ll be first.”

  She added encouragingly, quoting Jonathan, “It’ll be like learning not to be frightened of the dark when we were children.”

  Suzy said, “I’m still frightened of the dark.”

  MONDAY, MARCH 4

  The next morning after foot inspection, without discussing the matter, all the women except Suzy followed Annie and Silvana to their prayer place. They had made a small altar by pushing shells into the earth to form a mosaic rectangle. When any one of them came to pray, she placed flowers upon the shells.

  Each woman gained comfort from the keepsakes that Annie had shared out. Annie felt her Swiss army knife. Carey lightly touched her underwater watch. Silvana stroked the hilt of the fish knife in her belt and felt stronger. Patty rubbed the battered, empty aluminum lighter against her cheek. These things comforted them. They felt that Jonathan was still with them.

  Back at the camp, they found Suzy crouched before the fire, scowling. “Mumbo-jumbo,” she snapped at Annie. “You won’t get me up there.”

  Patty glared at her. “Shut up, Suzy. You’re inviting a good crack in the teeth.”

  Suzy sprang at Patty, clawing at her face.

  Caught off-balance Patty fell backward, with Suzy on top of her.

  Patty hit out, and felt the crunch of bone beneath her fist.

  Annie flung herself into the fray to part the two women before Carey joined the fight. Suzy hit her in the chest.

  Annie lashed at Suzy. Carey tugged at one of Annie’s legs and received a kick in the stomach; grunting with pain, Carey fell on top of the struggling women.

  On the edge of the fight, Silvana clutched her bandaged hand, unable to believe her eyes. How had it happened? Within two minutes they were all behaving like slum kids in a brawl. And for the same reason as slum kids, Silvana realized—to relieve their tension and fury against the impersonal fate that kept kicking them back into the pit they were trying to climb out of.

  The fight was over almost as quickly as it had started. As none of the women had ever seriously used her body aggressively, it had been more of a muddled struggle on the dusty ground than a ruthless fight. Except for Suzy, who had been raised with violence, the participants were all horrified by their aggression, none of them had ever attacked, or been attacked by, another person.

  Annie burst into tears of remorse.

  Patty burst into tears of rage. “You’d think none of us had ever had any self-defense training! We were all scratching, not using our hands or our bodies properly. What’ll happen to us if we’re really attacked and everything we’ve learned flies out of our head?”

  Then, even Suzy was silent and ashamed—not of having fought, but of having fought stupidly in spite of Jonathan’s careful training.

  Patty pulled out her aluminum lighter and rubbed it against her cheek. She stood up and said, in the firm voice of one who had come to a sudden decision, “I’m going back to Annie’s prayer place. I want to … compose myself.”

  Annie scrambled to her feet. “I’ll go with you.”

  “Me too,” Carey said, fingering her wristwatch as she walked away from the campfire.

  Suzy screamed, “Jonathan wouldn’t want you to turn him into a god.”

  “Hush,” said Silvana, watching the other three disappear. “You’re being sacrilegious, Suzy.”

  “Listen to you!” Suzy yelled. “You’re making him into a tin idol! I can see how gods are made.”

  She’s overwrought, Silvana thought, far more upset by Jonathan’s death than she’ll admit. She would suggest to Annie that she send Suzy out hunting with Carey that afternoon. She’d have to concentrate so hard that she wouldn’t have time for tantrums.

  * * *

  In the late afternoon Carey and Suzy set off to check the three animal traps that Jonathan had laid to the east of the camp. They were a simple design; a heavy piece of deadfall was carefully propped up with a light stick, beneath which lay a tempting morsel of meat. When an animal went to eat the meat, it knocked aside the wooden prop and the heavy deadwood fell on its head and either trapped it, knocked it out or killed it.

  Before they reached the first trap, Suzy had just missed impaling her foot on a sharp stump. After checking the second trap, she was nearly throttled by an overhanging vine when a rotten deadfall gave way beneath her feet.

  Both traps were empty. On their way to the third trap, they followed an overgrown animal track which skirted a bog patch where the grass grew bright green. Unexpectedly, they found themselves wading up to their knees in mud spattered with poisoned brush and rotten pieces of wood, while hanging loops of vine brushed against their faces.

  Suzy stumbled and almost fell.

  In front of her, Carey turned and said, “What’s the matter with you today, Stumblefoot?”

  Suzy burst into tears and hid her face in two muddy hands. In a muffled voice she said, “I’m pregnant.”

  Carey gave her a nasty look.

  “No, it wasn’t Jonathan,” Suzy protested. “I wanted to, but he wouldn’t.” She burst out, “I’ve just missed for the fourth time. This is Brett’s baby! Jesus, I’m so frightened!”

  Carey thought, Well, this is all we need. She said, “Don’t worry, we all know what to do if you’re pregnant.”

  “I’m not frightened of having a baby, I’m frightened of having to look after it, of being responsible for it in this horrible place. Just the thought makes me panic.”

  Carey put her arm around Suzy. “You won’t feel like that when you have it. Anyway, you probably won’t have it here, Suzy. We have five months to get you to a doctor.” She hesitated, then said, “And you’re probably not pregnant anyway. We’ve all stopped! I thought you realized that. Annie hasn’t handed out a grass tampon in months.” She gave Suzy a muddy hug. “Don’t worry now. Let’s check the last trap.”

  Carey turned and waded ahead, out of the bog and onto the faint grass track.

  Behind her, Suzy gave a little yelp and Carey turned around again.

  Hopping up and down, Suzy said, “God! My hands and arms are stinging like crazy! And my face! I must ha
ve touched my face with my hands after I touched a stinging plant!” She waved her hands in impotent rage.

  “Don’t touch your eyes,” Carey warned. “I saw some aloe a ways back on this track. I’ll go get some, you wait here.” Carey melted back along the track. She clearly remembered having seen earlier a clump of the pointed leaves. The women didn’t often see them, and when they did, Annie always wanted to know where it was. The rare leaves were magically soothing when applied to stings of almost any kind. They felt like cool slices of cucumber, and almost immediately drew the itch from the skin.

  Carey located the clump of aloe and took a handful of the twelve-inch-long, pointed leaves. Then she headed up the track toward Suzy.

  She could hear Suzy giving small cries. She must have been badly stung, Carey thought—although that was no excuse for making such a noise. Suzy could be very childish.

  Carey stopped. There was something odd about the cries.

  Carey moved fast but very carefully, parallel to the track, dodging from tree to tree and hiding behind the trunks, until she had nearly reached the spot where she had left Suzy.

  Ahead of her, Carey could see Suzy lying on the track and struggling with two almost naked, sweating black men, both of whom were kneeling. One man, with his back to Carey, was holding Suzy down by the shoulders, while the man who faced Carey had his hand over her mouth. Carey saw him jump and throw back his head as Suzy bit his hand. In that one glance Carey saw a black, sweaty face, bright orange hair, a yellow cross smeared on his forehead and a green feather stuck horizontally through the cartilage between his nostrils.

  Carey watched in horror as Suzy—whose hands were being held behind her back—kicked the man who faced her. As her foot landed in his stomach, he grunted and punched Suzy in the gut, which abruptly stopped her wriggling and gasping cries.

  Neither man made any noise. The one with his back to Carey put his knees on Suzy’s shoulders and pulled her arms up and back. Suzy lay with the back of her head toward Carey. Still the man made no sound, but the intentions of the man with the green feather were obvious.

  Carey noticed two bows and quivers of arrows lying in the grass at the side of the track. She thought, There’s only one reason for them to put down their weapons. You can’t rape someone with a bow in your hands.

  Carey knew she had to wait for precisely the right moment. She dropped the game bag and moved forward, still hidden by trees. With her right hand she pulled out her knife. She remembered, Decide on your moment and keep your eye on the spot you’re going to strike.

  Hearing Jonathan’s instructions clearly in her head, Carey launched herself at the man who knelt with his back to her. She thought, First action. Jump forward, left hand over his mouth and yank back head; simultaneously swing right hand holding the knife in front of him and completely across, over to the left of his neck. Second action. Pull back the knife to the right and toward you in one movement, as hard as you can, cutting across the throat.

  As Carey attacked, the man with the green feather looked up, startled. Suzy, her hands suddenly free, shoved at him with both her arms. She threw him off balance and managed to bring her right knee back to her stomach, then slam hard and fast with the ball of her foot to his crotch. Swiftly, Suzy kicked again, not a frantic woman’s kick but a carefully aimed, steady thrust with her right heel. The man doubled up.

  The man Carey had attacked gave a strangled cry and fell forward. Carey fell on top of him. She worked her right arm free and in a trembling frenzy she hacked away at the back of the man’s neck, until she felt his body yield beneath her.

  Carey started to get to her feet, then she saw that the man with the green feather was bent double, with his fuzzy dark head toward her. She knew that she shouldn’t attack him from the front, because then he had two arms and two legs to use against her. On the other hand, his back was now exposed to her. She couldn’t remember what to do, they’d never had this situation in practice.

  She held her bloody knife in her clenched fist, raised it and lunged as she fell across the head of the second man. She mustn’t thrust the knife straight downwards into his back, because the ribs overlapped protectively and the knife might slide off bone. Instead, she thrust from below the ribs, pulling the knife back toward her under the man’s ribs. The knife hit his kidneys. There was a convulsive movement and a howl from beneath her.

  Carey pulled out her knife, fell off the tangle of bodies, scrambled to a crouch and stuck the bloodied knife, as hard as she could, into the right side of the native’s neck, hoping to sever the great arteries and nerves on that side, in what Jonathan had called a sheep-butcher’s thrust.

  Dark red arterial blood spurted out, covering Carey’s face, arms and chest. The howling changed to a scream, and then faded to a gurgle.

  Frantically, Carey pushed and kicked the bodies—both still jerking—off the dazed and winded Suzy, who was covered with gore. Carey tugged her to her feet.

  Frozen in horror, the two women stared at the two bloodied corpses, then Suzy grabbed Carey’s hand and they fled back along the track toward their camp.

  24

  “I had no choice,” wept the blood-stained Carey, dazed and shocked as she stood, still bewildered, in front of the campfire.

  “Yes, you did have a choice,” Annie said. “You could have done nothing. You did the right thing. Patty and I will get rid of the traces, and Suzy will just have to take us back to that place.”

  Stubbornly, Suzy shook her head. “I’ll tell you where it is. You’ve both been there. But I’m never going back.” She shuddered.

  “Okay, okay,” Annie said. “We’ll find our own way.” She turned to Silvana. “You’d better get back up the lookout tree. You want any help with your hand?” Silvana shook her head.

  “Good,” Annie said. “In the future nobody leaves the camp alone, and nobody leaves without a rifle.”

  “Which one?” Patty asked.

  “Jonathan’s M-16,” Annie decided. “We were all trained on it. The guard in the lookout tree only needs a gun as a signal if an enemy is approaching, so the lookout can have the terrorist’s rifle.”

  “It all happened so fast,” wept Carey through chattering teeth.

  “You’ll feel better tomorrow,” said Patty. “I know I did.”

  “But you killed a terrorist—and he wore clothes. Those men were naked. I could feel their bodies.” Carey shuddered as she remembered the warm, slippery skin, the unaccustomed musky smell of their sweat, the muscular bodies writhing beneath her, the convulsive jerking of the second man—and then blood everywhere; even that horrible green feather had been red with blood.

  Carey gulped. “I could smell them as I killed them.”

  “Sure could,” said Suzy. “They stank like elephants—terrible B.O.”

  Annie stood up. “You two, take those clothes off and soak the blood out of them. Clean up below the waterfall pool, so that you don’t foul it, then lie on your beds quietly.” She turned to Patty. “Get the M-16 and a couple of coconut shells.”

  Annie turned to Carey. “We must have been wrong about the Golden Triangle boundary. It isn’t bordered by William Penn along to the village in the next bay.”

  “Looks like it’s a smaller area,” Carey agreed. “A trapezoid within our Golden Triangle.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A four-sided figure with no sides parallel.”

  “Well, anyway, we’re unsure of our southern boundary,” said Annie. “So on that side, we stay as close as possible to camp.”

  Patty returned with the rifle. “Maybe the natives were trespassing. Maybe somehow they know that Jonathan is dead, that we’re on our own and …”

  “Maybe they know about Jonathan, but I reckon they don’t dare step on taboo ground,” Annie said. “Otherwise, they’d have been around here before now—in droves!” She moved off. “Let’s get going.”

  “Okay, I’ll show you the place,” Suzy said with reluctance.

  Patty and
Annie had dragged the corpses back to the bog. They had bound stones to the bodies with rattan, then dragged them into the middle of the bog and let go. Standing thigh deep in brilliant green grass and bubbling muck, they watched the bubbles subside. Then they returned to the track and covered their traces as best they could.

  “Not that it will help if someone tracks them,” Patty said.

  She put down the quiver of arrows that one of the natives had been carrying, which she intended to try out at the first opportunity.

  “It’s hard to track someone—even with a dog—through all these small streams,” Annie pointed out. “Sure, if they hit upon the place where it happened, they’ll know immediately that there’s been a killing. But the odds are against that. For once, the odds are on our side.”

  Back at the camp, Carey crouched in front of the fire. She looked up at Patty.

  “How did you feel after you’d killed yours?”

  “It disgusted me. The stink. Then I felt … grim satisfaction.”

  TUESDAY, MARCH 5

  The next day, fear drove the women to work on their third raft with added strength. Annie insisted that Carey return to work rather than brood about what she’d done, but Carey refused to move outside the camp. She stayed by the fire, trimming the bamboo poles that Silvana and Patty dragged from the bamboo grove where Annie and Suzy were cutting them.

  They had nearly exhausted the bamboo grove, Annie thought, as she looked around it after the midday break. She wiped the sweat from her eyes and said with tired triumph to Suzy, “We’ll have enough by sunset.”

  Suzy nodded.

  Then they both heard a shot.