Stalking Ivory

by Suzanne Arruda

  The rusty leg iron might have been made for a larger foot, but it still managed to catch his heel. He took his rock tool and sawed away some of the callus on his heel, taking part of the skin with it. Only by lubricating his foot with his own blood and by scraping off the skin of his heel and part of his ankle bone was he able to finally extricate himself. He gathered up his shirt, wrapping it around his sliced palms as a bandage.

  Beside him lay the skin of foul water and the handful of dates. He devoured the dates and forced himself to swallow the horrid-tasting water. There was very little of it, and Jelani’s thirst made him wish for more no matter how disgusting it tasted.

  He dropped the empty skin on the ground next to the ankle iron and slipped out of the camp and back towards the mountain of the elephants. All the while, two words echoed in his head. Simba Jike. He needed to warn her.

  SENSATIONS, MORE THAN ACTUAL THOUGHTS, worked their way into Jade’s slowly awakening consciousness. First came throat-parching thirst, followed by a throbbing pain in her temples. She gradually grew aware of a buzzing sound in her left ear, akin to the ever-present conversational hum at the Muthaiga Club.

  I need a lemonade. Where’s a waiter when you need one? Maybe I’ll just go home. It’s too noisy here. Don’t these people ever shut up?

  “Frightful noise. Someone shooting the lights again. No decency.”

  The gramophone wailed out “The Yellow Dog Blues.” Women in glittering gowns and jeweled necklaces languished in the arms of tuxedoed men whose eyes glowed with a predatory sheen. They danced past the stuffed lion, a Muthaiga Club mascot, its body a patchwork of bullet holes from innumerable target practices.

  “Terrible state the colony’s gotten in. Blasted train from Mombasa opens the door to too much riffraff.”

  “Hear, hear.”

  Marion Harris replaced the blues, singing about jazz, trombones, and saxophones, and the dancers erupted into a bedlam of fox-trots and rapid two-steps. The poor lion suffered the indignity of one woman’s heels kicking back into its face.

  “Commissioner, did you ever uncover what caused that fire at Roger Forster’s old place?”

  “No. Most suspicious, though. Seemed to have been deliberately set.” This pronouncement was followed by horrified gasps and expressions of shock.

  “I thought someone bought the place after the man died on safari last year. I suppose the person who bought it was injured in the fire?”

  “No one took possession. Some broker purchased it for a woman in England. A week later it was torched.”

  Marion Harris stayed on the gramophone, telling the dancers how men go simply wild over her. One man set his half-empty champagne glass on the stuffed lion’s back and scooped up a dance partner. Another half dozen couples left their glasses tipped over on the end tables as they crowded the dance floor, laughing and singing along.

  “Met the new chap with the King’s Rifles up north? I hear he saw service in Tanganyika during the war. Ought to be able to handle the natives. Tragic how Captain Ross died. Bloody ambush!”

  One of the women, tipsy from too much champagne, tripped over her own feet and fell backward until she crashed against the wall and plopped down, straddling the lion. A series of hilarious guffaws erupted. Colridge’s son grabbed Jade’s arm and pulled her onto the dance floor.

  Something tickled Jade’s ear. This annoyance was followed by an intense thirst, a gritty cotton-mouthed feeling similar to the only hangover she’d ever experienced, when she and Beverly overdid their Armistice celebration. She tried to sit up, but the dull, throbbing pain pulsed from the back of her head and across her shoulders. What the hell happened? The droning hum continued. Am I still at the Muthaiga Club?

  She shifted again and swatted the annoying fly from her ear. What is that jangling noise? The fly resettled around her nostril, searching for moisture. She snorted and shook her head. Bad idea. Sweet heavens, that hurt.

  Suddenly, her conscious brain sent silent alarms throughout her body. Her pulse quickened, her hearing became more acute, and a faint metallic aroma that she associated with blood assaulted her nostrils. The skin around her wrists sent the message that something hard constricted them. She moved her hand again to swat the pesky fly and again heard the jingling.

  Chains!

  “Sam,” she whispered. Her throat burned with raw fire as she spoke, and a clot of congealing blood hung from her lower lip. She raised her head, spit onto the ground, and tried again. “Sam!” This time, a nearby groan answered her.

  Jade again attempted to push herself into a sitting position, but discovered that her hands were shackled together with only a foot or so of chain between them. She jammed her right elbow into the ground and used it to gain leverage. When her vision blurred and she nearly swooned, she paused to let her heart keep pace with her head’s change in altitude. The spots gradually quit swimming in front of her eyes and she saw that her wrists were tethered, not only to each other, but to Sam’s leg as well.

  “SAM!”

  “What?”

  “We have a problem.” She surveyed their situation while he roused himself. As near as she could tell, someone had ambushed them in the dark and left them to die in the desert. Their canteens and rifles had been taken. “Be careful how you move. I seem to be chained to you.”

  Sam raised himself to a sitting position and rubbed his head, wincing from the pain. “Something hit me in the leg. I remember falling, then…” He paused to recollect the events. “I think I remember hearing someone behind me and they hit me in the head with a mallet or club or something.” He rubbed his head again. “Are you all right? Where’s Biscuit?”

  “Don’t know. I think he took off running,” Jade said. “Probably went on to find Jelani.”

  Sam stretched out his free, good leg and tried to reposition himself away from a sharp rock that dug into his thigh. “I feel like a truck hit me.”

  “I heard the blows. I think you’re about right. He hit me, too.” She pointed to his leg, the wounded one. “Did he hit you in your bad leg?”

  Sam nodded, then winced from the pain. “Don’t worry—it’s not broken. How’s your head?”

  “I’m all right as long as I don’t move too fast. But whoever attacked us only had one decent leg-iron and used it to hold both of us. We’re not walking out like this.”

  Sam inspected the iron clamped firmly and tightly around his boot. There was no way it would slip off.

  “We could cut the boot off, I suppose,” Jade suggested. “One of these rocks might do it. We just need to be careful not to cut your leg in the process.”

  Sam just stared at her, his brown hair flopping over one eye. “You know, you are not the most fun date I have ever had, lady,” he managed.

  Jade produced a rueful smile as she wondered why she brought nothing but disaster to the men in her life. Maybe because she fought entanglements so much. “Tell you what. We get out of this, and rescue Jelani, I’ll make it up to you. Maybe you can give me a tour of Purdue.”

  “Mmmm, moonlight on the Wabash River and you. Something to live for.” The smile that spread across Sam’s angular face grew so slowly but so inexorably that Jade felt a tingling shiver, not at all unpleasant, race down her spine. He leaned towards her, his face only a few inches from hers. “Remember when we first met and I wanted to protect you and you told me I didn’t have a leg to stand on?”

  “Yeah,” she answered warily.

  “Well, it seems you were right.”

  With that, he grabbed a hole in the knee of his trousers and ripped it open. Then he carefully proceeded to unfasten his right leg.

  CHAPTER 20

  Anyone who travels north along these caravan routes should bring plenty of water with them. In addition to quantities of water, remember to take along a goodly number of blankets. People equate deserts with extreme heat, not realizing that the nights can become bitterly cold.

  —The Traveler

  JELANI COULDN’T REMEMBER EVER feeling
so cold. Even on the mountain of the elephants, the nights never got this frigid. He shivered. He couldn’t stop shivering. His muscles refused to obey him, and even his teeth clattered together. He wished he could put his shirt back on, but he’d finally ripped it in two and wound a blood-soaked strip around each foot as some protection from the sharp rocks. He’d saved one thin strip to rebind the worst slash on his wrist, tying it tightly with his teeth. Now his hand felt numb and tingly.

  He had slipped out of the camp unnoticed, as silent as a snake. At first, he tiptoed, making certain he made no sound, dislodged no rocks. Then, when he felt he was far enough away, he broke into a run and ran until he thought his lungs would burst. By then his feet were cut and bloody, so he stopped and used his equally bloody shirt for shoes instead of bandages on his hands.

  He had no idea how far he needed to go, only that he must keep moving. He hoped that the slavers wouldn’t notice his disappearance until morning and then would decide it was not worth the bother to go back after one boy. He tried to swallow, wished he had some water. Even that stagnant water in that horrid, rotting skin would be better than this thirst.

  To his left, the sun rose over the horizon. Soon the cold would stop and the intense heat of the desert day would begin. Should he stop and sleep somewhere? Travel at night? No, the man had said “Simba Jike” in a terrible, scornful voice, the same tone he had used when he admitted using Jelani as bait to lure away Memsabu Jade. She was in danger. He had to warn her.

  Jelani found it harder to put one foot in front of the other. He tended to waver and sway from side to side instead of moving forward. In the morning light, he saw the mountain of the elephants, small, blue, and very far away. Just another step. And another. Simba Jike was there.

  He still felt cold, but now his skin also felt clammy. His vision blurred, and he shook his head to clear it. The motion almost made him fall over. He forced his eyes to focus. Something was coming towards him? Was it his friends?

  To his utter amazement, a massive bull elephant strode purposefully towards him. His mouth opened in a silent cry, and he collapsed on the ground.

  “IT’S PROSTHETIC!” Jade stared, mouth hanging open in amazement, as Sam held up his boot. A glimpse of artificial leg showed even with the boot top along with attachment points that connected to the stump a few inches below his real knee.

  Sam held the bootheel out to Jade. “Grab hold of the heel and pull,” he commanded. “I’ll try to work the leg out.”

  “The blasted thing’s prosthetic,” Jade repeated to herself as she took hold of the boot’s heel and sole.

  “Yes, we’ve established that. You see,” he added with a grin, “you were right all along.”

  Jade’s grimy, olive-toned face flushed a deep rose. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I never imagined—I mean, I never meant anything…. Oh, hell!” When would she learn to keep her mouth shut? And would he expect to hold her to her offer to visit his alma mater? Odd that while sitting in the middle of the Dida Galgalla desert barely cheating death, she would think first about a rash promise of a date made to a man facing death with her. “I’m sorry, Sam,” she repeated. “It was an insensitive thing to say. I mean, I knew your leg was wounded.”

  He chuckled at her embarrassment as he twisted and tugged on the artificial leg inside the boot. “You should see the look on your face.”

  Jade scowled. “Can we please keep to the problem at hand?”

  “Yes, absolutely,” he said. “Of course, it’s usually easier to get out of the boot when my upper leg is still attached,” he admitted. “And when there’s no blasted leg-iron clamping down on the footgear.”

  He leaned backward, gritted his teeth and tugged again. Jade thought she felt something shift inside. “I think it’s coming loose.”

  Sam took a deep breath and a firmer grip. “On three. One…two…three!”

  Jade tipped the bootheel towards her to allow the wooden foot inside to slide back along the heel and lead the way out of the boot. It worked. As the foot came free, she fell backward onto the rocky ground. “Ouch!”

  The ankle iron still surrounded Sam’s boot, but without a leg inside, Jade could scrunch up the boot enough to slip the iron off. She tossed the boot back to Sam, who was busily reattaching his leg. Jade nodded at it. “Shot down?” she asked.

  “Not exactly. Machine gun fire penetrated the fuselage and hit my ankle. Shredded it into a bloody pulp. Made for an exciting air battle. Ever try flying without a right foot?”

  Jade shook her head. She knew that the rudder controls were operated by the feet and again wondered if Sam was now permanently grounded.

  As if he read her mind, he said, “I’ve got a friend in Battle Ground, Indiana, who’s rigging up a plane for me. One of the Jennies we trained in,” he said, referring to the Curtiss JN-4. “That is, if I can pay for it. I think I counted too much on making money with these movies. But it’s a beautiful plane.” His eyes glowed like that of a lover describing his sweetheart. “If he can get it fixed up, I can work the foot controls with levers using my hands. Can’t wait to get up in the air again. Ever been?”

  Jade nodded, remembering the few times David had taken her aloft.

  Sam continued his enthusiastic plans. “Can you imagine making a motion picture of Africa from the air?” He shook his head. “By thunder, it ought to be incredible.”

  As soon as the leg chain had come free of the boot, Jade had felt a moment of hope. She was alive, she was free or nearly so, and she could continue her search for Jelani. Now a new feeling of excitement, of something to hope for besides just surviving, flowed into her lungs and through her veins, sending a tingle to her nerve endings. “It sounds wonderful,” she answered. “I can’t imagine what that would be like.”

  Sam heard the longing in her voice and reached a hand out to take hers, still encased in the wrist irons. “I can teach you to fly. Since I’ll need both my hands to fly, it will be impossible for me to do that and film at the same time. I’ll need someone I trust at the controls while I run the camera. Of course, I’d fly first to scout the area.”

  For a moment, Jade let herself be swept up in the vision, soaring aloft over herds of antelope and elephants, following the great rivers over uncharted territory. Then the vision faded and was replaced by one of a young boy, chained, helpless, and frightened. She held up her wrists.

  “What’s wrong with us?” she asked rhetorically. “Here we are thinking of adventures, and Jelani is still out there in those monsters’ grasps.”

  Sam never took his soft brown gaze off Jade’s face. “You didn’t forget Jelani,” he said. “And neither did I. You just gave yourself a reason to survive beyond saving him, and that’s very important. Otherwise, my dear Miss Simba Jike, I’m afraid you’ll go running in there guns blazing—metaphorically speaking, since we don’t have any guns—and kill yourself in the process.” He finished reattaching his prosthetic leg and pulled on his boot. “Now, let’s figure out how to break off those chains. They appear to be rather old and rusted.”

  Since a hammer and anvil approach seemed to be the only possible option, they searched the area until they found a hefty chunk of basalt to use as a hammer, and another, larger one on the ground that had a chisellike chunk over which they could drape one of the more corroded center links. Jade sat down and braced her feet on one side of the larger boulder and gripped both ends of her chains. Then Sam slammed the makeshift hammer as hard as he could on one side of the link.

  Jade felt the shock rip down her arms, and the wrist iron dig against the heel of her left hand. She grimaced, ground her teeth against the pain, and took a firmer grip. Sam waited till she was ready and slammed the rock against the same spot. The link snapped, and Jade fell backward and to her right side. Her hands were separated from each other, but the right one still had a long length of chain that terminated in the ankle iron attached to it.

  “Let’s try this again and see if we can’t break off some of this extra chain,�
�� Sam suggested. He took her hands in his and turned them over, inspecting her wrists for severe cuts. “You’re going to have a bad bruise there,” he said as he gently pushed back the left wrist iron and ran his thumb in a caress over her lion’s-tooth tattoo.

  Jade felt the sensual touch like an electric shock to her brain. Her pulse jumped. Gads, why am I reacting like a schoolgirl? She pulled her hand away. “I’ll get over it. Now break off this long piece.”

  Sam untucked his shirt and ripped a strip of fabric from the hem. “I’m going to wrap this around your right wrist. Maybe we can keep the iron from digging in so hard this time.”

  She steeled herself against this newest assault on her senses in the same way she’d readied herself for the first hammer blow. She gritted her teeth. It didn’t help. When he touched her right hand, she still felt the fire run from her wrist up her arm and on to her head. Her legs quivered as she sat on the ground, feet braced again, and told herself they were just weak from the walking and lack of water. Her heart didn’t believe her, though, and it quickened her pulse again. Maybe it has something to do with barely managing to stay alive?

  “Ready?” asked Sam as he released her hand and repositioned the chain on the bottom rock.

  Jade nodded, not trusting her voice to answer without quavering.

  Sam hoisted the hammer rock and struck two blows in quick succession. The chain broke again and left Jade with about ten inches hanging from the right wrist iron.

  “Thanks, Sam.”

  Sam picked up the remaining chain with the leg-iron and tucked one end in his hip pocket. “Weapon,” he said in explanation. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. “Now for the boy.”

  Jade held out her hand, palm out. “Sam, I don’t quite know how to say this, but I can trot faster than you can limp. You’re going to slow me down. I need you to please go back for the Dodge. Go get Avery if you can. He’s got some weapons.”

  “And send you off alone to those bastards?” he exclaimed. “You go back for the car. I’ll go on ahead.”