by Andy Briggs
The man was now crying from the pain singeing his back and legs. “I don’t know! He only said Uganda . . . I don’t know!”
For a second, Robbie thought Jane was going to order Tarzan to hurl the man into the fire, but then he saw compassion cross her face.
“Tarzan won’t kill you . . .”
“Thank you! Thank you!”
“I haven’t finished. He won’t kill you if you find us a jeep and all the equipment we need to follow Rokoff. Believe me, if we find out you’re lying, Tarzan will be back. And no matter where you hide, he will find you.”
17
They drove steadily eastward for a full day. The terrified mechanic had assured Jane that the jeep was the best in the town even if it lacked air conditioning and the cab was stifling; at least the suspension leveled out most of the potholes on the primitive road that led toward Tanganyika.
It had taken a great deal of persuasion to get Tarzan inside the jeep. He had never been in a moving vehicle before and every sound made his head turn in alarm. After a couple of hours he grew accustomed to the noises and began to relax.
Robbie drove. He was very glad they were no longer walking as his ribs hurt so much from the fight that he was sure a few were broken. He kept his eyes on the road, occasionally glancing at the GPS screen he’d hooked onto the dashboard. Rokoff had stopped for a couple of hours ahead, but now appeared to be moving again very slowly. The rocking vehicle sent Jane to sleep, while Tarzan gazed out of the window at the endless lines of cultivated fields. Civilization had left a sour taste in his mouth.
After an hour of silence, and with Jane still fast asleep, Robbie spoke up.
“You don’t like towns, do you?”
“Jungle safer.” That made Robbie laugh. Tarzan looked at him curiously. “Why laugh?”
“Because since I’ve been in the jungle I’ve been chased by just about every animal, almost eaten alive by ants, trampled by hippos, swallowed by crocodiles . . . and you think it’s safe?”
“They eat for food. They attack for food. Men attack for hatred and anger.”
“Not everybody is like that. Look at us. Look at D’Arnot.” Tarzan’s brow furrowed at the mention of his old friend. “There are lots of good people out there. What about your family? The Greystokes?”
“Tarzan family live in jungle.”
“Your foster family, maybe. You understand, foster parents? They’re the ones who look after you even though they’re not your real parents. I understand that family can be . . . complicated. I know my family is looking for me.” He had no intention of explaining his complex family life to Tarzan. “Whether or not you admit that your real parents died in a plane crash, leaving you out in the jungle to fend for yourself—that’s your own decision. But if you do have a family out there . . . somewhere in civilization, then don’t you think you owe it to them to say you’re alive? That you’re safe?”
“Tarzan happy here,” he said simply.
Robbie didn’t have a response to that. He couldn’t recall the last time he had been happy. Not for the first time he was having doubts about whether Clark’s plan to hand Tarzan over to the Greystokes and claim the reward money was the right thing to do.
Robbie reached up to the sun visor where the video camera was wedged and stopped it recording. Tucked in his pocket, the palm-sized camcorder had endured everything the jungle had thrown at them. He had been taking fragments of video ever since they embarked on their rescue mission and hoped some of it would help convince the Greystokes, but he still needed footage of Lord Greystoke’s private aircraft in the jungle.
He slipped the camera into his pocket, then turned his attention back to the road and suddenly slammed on the brakes. The truck skidded in the dirt, jolting Jane awake.
“What is it?” said Jane, instantly alert.
She followed Robbie’s and Tarzan’s gaze outside. They had crested a hill, revealing the landscape beyond. Instead of plowed fields or jungle, the horizon was a deep blue. A colossal stretch of water lay in front of them.
“Is that the sea?” asked Jane, confused.
“Lake Tanganyika,” murmured Robbie. He glanced at the GPS. “Tanzania’s on the other shore, then north into Uganda. That’s where Rokoff’s heading. Problem is, we can’t go. We don’t have our passports. I didn’t think we’d be running across Africa.”
Jane sighed in disappointment. “We’ve got to do something!”
“Passports?” repeated Tarzan.
“Pieces of paper that allow us to cross the border into another country.” Robbie looked to Jane for help.
“Borders are . . . are the edge of another territory. Like between you and the targarni,” she said. Tarzan nodded in understanding.
“And without passports, we can’t cross,” said Robbie.
Tarzan was unruffled. “No border stops Tarzan!”
•••
Crossing the second largest lake in the world proved to be easier than any of them had anticipated. The great lake ran for nearly 450 miles north to south, but was not very wide from east to west. In tracking Rokoff they had reached the northern shore and only had to cross the thirty miles to enter Tanzania on the opposite side. After that it was a relatively short hop into Uganda. They didn’t have any money to catch the regular ferries from the northern DRC city of Uvira, but Robbie used his experience in such matters to smuggle themselves aboard a smaller cargo boat that was bound for Kigoma in Tanzania. Tarzan had been reluctant to venture on board the ship, but was persuaded when Jane pointed out that it was the only way they could catch up with Rokoff who, like them, had been slowed by the great lake.
The journey lasted almost four hours and they took the opportunity to rest. Robbie fell into a fitful sleep and even Tarzan curled up in their hiding place in the hold and slept.
They arrived in Kigoma at nightfall, which helped the three of them to slip off the boat and through the docks unnoticed. Tarzan was keen to leave the town as quickly as possible. According to the GPS, Rokoff was rapidly heading northeast toward Uganda. From the speed of his progress, it was clear that he had taken another vehicle and Robbie warned Tarzan that there was no way they could catch up on foot. Tarzan suggested that they should take another car. Jane tried to explain the concept of theft to him, but Tarzan still had no real understanding that people could own things. Robbie ended their moral debate by reassuring Jane they would return the vehicle afterward so technically they would only be borrowing it.
Robbie liberated a sturdy four-by-four and they put as much distance as they could between them and civilization. Robbie drove through the night along a dirt and gravel track until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. They parked under a tree and everyone fell straight to sleep from exhaustion.
Daylight brought surprises. They had parked in the shade provided by a mighty baobab tree. Robbie was still asleep on the back seat when Jane stepped from the vehicle and looked up at the tree towering sixty feet over her. She placed her palm over her brow to shield her eyes from the sun, regretting for the first time that she hadn’t brought any sunglasses. When her eyes adjusted to the morning light she gasped in amazement.
The landscape gently rolled in front of her to the distant horizon. The wide open, brown and green grasslands contained pockets of dense acacia trees and the occasional towering baobab tree, but otherwise it was sweeping savannah, a far cry from the claustrophobic confines of the jungle she had grown used to.
It took several moments for her to see that the myriad of brown dots across the grassland were animals. As her eyes adjusted to the scale, she realized that what she had assumed were empty plains were filled with wildebeest and zebras—thousands of them stretching to the horizon in a colossal line, all idly grazing in the warm morning light.
It was a truly magical sight that took her breath away. She moved position to get a better look when a noise to her right alarmed her. At first she couldn’t see anything—until she craned her neck and realized that three giraf
fes were grazing on the top leaves of a nearby cluster of acacia trees. She could see their long tongues nimbly pulling the greenery from the spiky branches. Only when they moved did Jane notice several more giraffes feeding from another thicket of trees. Their dark-brown spots allowed them to blend into the landscape with surprising ease. They didn’t appear too bothered by her presence.
Robbie woke up with a start. The first thing he saw was a huge set of slender giraffe legs walk past the windshield.
“Wow! What the . . . ?” Then he joined Jane outside and took a moment to take in the view. He looked around curiously. “Where’s Tarzan?”
Jane felt a creeping panic when they couldn’t see him. She was used to him vanishing into the depths of the jungle, but out here she felt vulnerable—there was no place to hide. They stayed by the jeep for the next hour, watching the giraffes gracefully move on to the next cluster of trees.
Robbie examined the GPS, noting that they had made great gains on Rokoff during the night. He appeared to have stopped somewhere ahead. If they pushed on today they might be able to catch up to him.
Tarzan eventually appeared from the waist-high grass and Jane felt relieved. There was a mischievous gleam in his eyes, and she suspected he was enjoying exploring his new surroundings.
“Where have you been?”
“No food for Jane,” he said, wiping traces of blood from his mouth. “Only grass.”
Jane looked away, not wanting to picture Tarzan sinking his teeth into the raw flesh of some hapless animal.
“It’s OK, we have plenty of food,” she said pulling a trail-mix energy bar from her pack, one of many given to them by the mechanic Tarzan had threatened to burn alive. “Rokoff has stopped somewhere ahead. If we move now we stand a good chance of catching him up.”
At the mention of the Russian’s name the playfulness left Tarzan’s face and he nodded grimly.
They climbed into the jeep and pressed on. The road was nothing more than a dust trail and the suspension creaked alarmingly as the car rocked. Several times they crossed dried stream beds, forcing the four-by-four over some extreme off-roading terrain. Robbie shifted into a low gear and navigated admirably across the wilderness.
Jane lost count of the times they drove close to huge herds of mainly wildebeest, although dozens of zebras walked amongst them with their small foals sporting brown stripes. It surprised Jane when the zebras barked at the passing vehicle; she had expected them to neigh like horses. The occasional ostrich also appeared, watching them from a distance. And at one point Robbie spotted a pride of lions basking on some far-off rocks. He gave them a wide berth, determined not to stray into any unwanted trouble.
Jane was more enthralled with each passing hour. The herds of animals appeared never-ending, and the savannah offered beautiful rolling hills of green and brown in its vast, breathtaking landscape.
Robbie kept an eye on the fuel gauge and judged they had enough to last at least until nightfall.
After a while, at Tarzan’s command, Robbie stopped the jeep to allow a herd of some twenty elephants to cut across their path. The savannah elephants were even bigger than Tantor and had huge flapping ears—to help them cool down in the heat of the open plains. Several elephant calves were in the center of the herd, which prompted one huge female to approach the jeep, ears flaring wide, this time as a sign of aggression. The elephant gave a deep bellow. Her raw power was frightening, and Jane had no doubts that she could easily tear the vehicle apart.
Tarzan however, was undaunted. His eyes gleamed as if he relished the challenge. He opened the door and swung onto the jeep’s roof. This only agitated the elephant further and her trunk arced back as she trumpeted furiously.
In return, Tarzan beat his chest and gave a holler that carried far across the savannah. Jane was astonished to see the elephant step backward and bellow again. Once more Tarzan unleashed his cry and jumped up and down on the roof with such energy that the vehicle rocked and he dented the roof. Then suddenly he stopped and leaned forward, reaching out his hand and grunting softly. The elephant hesitated, then cautiously extended its trunk, first sniffing Tarzan’s hand and then his head.
The elephant visibly relaxed and gave a gentle snort before it continued walking with the rest of the herd as if nothing had happened. Tarzan offered no explanation and they too carried on. Jane always marveled at Tarzan’s ability to communicate with animals and, for the first time, she wondered where he had learned such knowledge. It couldn’t have been something D’Arnot had taught him. She suspected the answer might be even more mysterious.
As the day wore on, the trail grew more difficult as the grasslands undulated and became crisscrossed with deep gullies and dried riverbed. The heat was making Robbie feel irritable and every sharp jolt tested his temper as he banged his head against the side of the door.
Several times they were forced to navigate around rivers that snaked across their path. Then they would follow the river, avoiding duro and gimla, until they found a suitable place they could safely ford. The first few times, Robbie drove through the water slowly.
But when it happened again, Robbie wasn’t quite so patient. These detours weren’t helping close the gap between them and Rokoff. He floored the accelerator and the jeep bounced across the river kicking up a huge curtain of water that splashed through the open windows soaking them all.
“You moron!” shouted Jane.
Robbie laughed, but stopped short when the engine stalled on the far side. Luckily it was a gentle slope up from the river rather than a steep bank, and the car rolled to a halt. Robbie turned the key and the engine coughed pathetically.
“Robbie kill it?” asked Tarzan.
“Robbie idiot,” muttered Jane.
Robbie ignored her as he tried the engine again. Nothing. “I think the carburetor’s flooded.”
“Is that bad?” asked Jane, worried they could be stranded in the middle of nowhere.
Robbie didn’t reply. He pulled the hood catch and climbed out. He lifted the heavy metal hood open and stared at the engine. The heat from it was intense and he couldn’t touch anything to see where the problem lay.
“We’re gonna have to let it cool down,” he said sheepishly.
“Great! Just when we start catching up with Rokoff, you go and do this!” snapped Jane.
Tarzan climbed from the vehicle and scouted the immediate area. The trail ahead cut through thick clusters of trees. Birds flew in the boughs too slender to support Tarzan’s weight. Instead he slowly climbed onto a rock, his head twitching left then right, listening to the sounds of the savannah.
Robbie prodded the engine, breathing in sharply through his teeth when he touched the scalding metal. Jane was already feeling too hot just standing next to him and fanned herself with her hand. It did nothing to cool her down.
“Can you fix it?” she asked. Robbie shot her an offended look. He could fix anything. Jane didn’t doubt his skills, she was just angry he’d impulsively damaged their ride. “Why did you drive like that?”
“I’m fed up with being so far behind Rokoff. I wanted to catch up.”
“Well, it hasn’t done much good, has it? And we wouldn’t be in this situation if you hadn’t brought that creep back to the camp,” she reminded him.
Robbie straightened up, ready for an argument. “Oh, so this is all my fault, is it?”
The incessant heat sapped Jane’s patience. She knew she shouldn’t wind him up, but she couldn’t help herself. “Yes! If it wasn’t for you then Rokoff wouldn’t have found Karnath! We wouldn’t have been racing through jungle and savannah to save him! We would have been back at the camp relaxing!”
“I thought you hated the camp? What about everything you said about going back home?”
Jane avoided his gaze. The pause was enough for Robbie to turn his back on her and return to the engine. “You know what? I don’t care if you want to go or you want to stay.” He didn’t mean it but he was angry. “I’m only interested in getting
enough money to leave this continent as soon as I can. There’s nothing here for me.”
Jane noticed he hadn’t defended his decision to bring Rokoff to the camp, but she had seen the regret in his eyes as he turned away, and she felt bad for bringing it up. Robbie set to work pulling electrical leads from the engine to dry them with a rag. Jane sat in the jeep to keep out of his way. At least the shade provided some protection from the searing sun.
Everything inside had been thrown to the floor as the vehicle bounced through the river. She started picking things up and tidying them away. Crumpled maps, a collection of rusting tools—socket wrenches, screwdrivers, everything needed to repair an engine on the road.
Then she noticed something silver lodged behind the pedals. Removing it, Jane was surprised to see it was a small video camera. She switched it on and looked at the dozen or so thumbnail images on the touchscreen. She tapped the first clip and a shaky image of the jungle appeared; a video clip taken from several feet behind Jane and Tarzan. Jane was shocked—Robbie must have taken it. As if to confirm this, his whispering voice started narrating the scene as if it was a wildlife documentary.
“Here we have the person who calls himself Tarzan, but you will know him better as Lord Greystoke.” The picture zoomed in on Tarzan, but Robbie had shot it as he was walked, so it was difficult to make out any features clearly.
Confused, Jane played the next few clips. They were all shaky images of Tarzan as he walked ahead—including a rather more impressive shot of him bounding up a tree. As Jane went through the clips, the camerawork improved as Robbie seemed to be taking the videos while stationary. He caught a couple of Tarzan’s strong profile, which matched the photographs Jane had seen online of Tarzan’s real father. One sequence ended abruptly when Tarzan suddenly looked straight at Robbie and his camera—the image focused on Robbie’s boot before it stopped. Robbie’s reaction to hide the camera was pointless—after all, Tarzan would have no idea what he was actually doing.
But why was he doing it?
