All of a sudden the feeling of having a full belly soured and the watermelon, palm oil fruit and grasshopper caught the freight train leaving my stomach and roared out of my mouth and onto the ground at her feet. Leila screamed, said fuck half a dozen times and danced on the spot briefly before running off into Twenny’s arms. I sat on the barrel, bile burning my throat, gave them both an apologetic shrug and felt a whole lot better. Twenny Fo left his girlfriend and came on over.
‘Tell me that wasn’t intentional?’
‘I got a few talents, but throwing up on cue ain’t one of them.’
‘I just thought I’d check. I know you and Leila haven’t hit it off.’
Interesting choice of words. ‘I think we hit it off just fine. And I think I still got the handprint on my face to prove it.’
‘With Leila, you gotta learn when to duck.’
‘Uh-huh,’ was all I said.
‘I haven’t got ’round to thanking you properly for what you done. You could have left me behind, man.’
‘A few things went our way.’ A beetle landed on my head. I swatted it away. ‘We need to have a talk about what you saw and heard in that camp.’
‘Leila told me you think an American we met at the concert in Rwanda planned all this with our pilot, the short French guy. The idea from the beginning was to drop us into the jungle and hold us to ransom, right?’
‘That’s what it looks like. The dickfuck’s name is Lockhart. He was in the camp where you were being held prisoner. I saw him murder Fournier, the French co-pilot, not five feet from where you were standing.’
‘I heard the gunshot, but that’s all. They put a hood over my head and beeswax went in my ears almost from the moment I was captured. I saw nothing, heard nothing, man.’
Wonderful.
‘. . . But I smelled him.’
‘You smelled him?’
‘I have my own cologne. It’s called “Guilty”. Maybe you heard of it?’
Now that I thought about it, I had seen the advertising poster: two women, naked and embracing, shadows hiding the interesting bits, Twenny lying in a nearby bed, a white satin sheet strategically placed.
‘How many people you think wear cologne in these parts? Anyway,’ he continued, ‘that’s what your man wears, you feel me? Splashes on a little Guilty after trimming his man hair. I know that smell anywhere. I couldn’t believe it – thought I was dreaming.’
I wasn’t sure that a court would send Lockhart away for life on a little olfactory evidence, but it was something.
‘Like I tol’ you already, anything I can do to help, just ask,’ he said, standing. ‘You got a friend for life, you feel me?’
I thought about asking him to tell his girlfriend not to sue the Air Force on my account, but my service could take care of itself.
Trapped
It rained most of the night. Used to this by now, I scarcely noticed and shivered my way through it without too much swearing. I grabbed what sleep I could on one of West’s cots, out of reach of the driver ants, under the shelter of several broad umbrella palm fronds. I liked that arrangement better than sharing a poncho, which just caused me to sweat. I took the second-to-last watch, relieving Rutherford, who had nothing to report other than that there were plenty of frogs.
I checked on the raft’s progress at the start of my watch at three-thirty. The job was done and West was snoring under a poncho on the raft, which was long and narrow. Only one of the fifty-five-gallon drums had been used in its construction, up at what would have been the bow. The SS Sapling was ready to go, sitting in a pool of shallow brackish water among the reeds.
My watch was uneventful. When it was over, I passed it to Ryder, who said he was feeling human again, which probably had a lot to do with him feeling Ayesha. Boink had been given the night off. He’d done his fair share. Peanut snored the night away, oblivious to everything except the mosquitoes, which he slapped and waved at as much as anyone. Twenny and Leila shared a cot and covered themselves with a poncho. Twenny talked in his sleep, yelled occasionally, dreams beginning to stalk him too.
I went back to the cot and before I knew it, I was asleep, having a nightmare about eating a steak that tasted of grasshopper. But this was cut short by the distinctive and unpleasant crash of an exploding Claymore, which sounded like a thousand ball bearings hurled explosively against a glass floor. I sat up instantly.
In the moonlight, a shadow ran past that I recognized as Ryder. He stopped at Ayesha’s cot. ‘Get up!’ he shouted.
‘What’s goin’ on?’ Twenny asked no one in particular, bewildered, half asleep.
‘Get to the raft,’ I hissed. ‘Look after Peanut. Go now.’
I raced to Boink’s cot and shook him.
‘What!’ he said, snapping awake.
‘Get up,’ I said and spun around and woke Leila.
‘Don’t,’ she said, still asleep.
‘Hey!’ I kept shaking her until her eyes popped open.
Cassidy arrived and, with a hand under her armpit, roughly lifted the celebrity to her feet and then started dragging her toward the raft.
‘Stop!’ she yelled.
Cassidy let her go and she turned and stumbled back to snatch the makeup case hanging off one of the saplings supporting her cot.
‘Leave it,’ I told her, but she reached it and clutched it closer to her chest.
A moment later, we were all on the move and splashing through the reeds, sprinting toward the raft.
‘Push,’ West yelled when we arrived. He was trying to heave it out of the shallows and into the river single-handedly, his feet slipping in the mud.
The first gunshots from the FARDC were unaimed and inaccurate, but the bright moonlight wasn’t doing us any favors. A Dong burst through the bushes into the area at the rear of the cleared land and the first RPG of the day streaked through the air, over our heads and lit up the trees on the opposite bank with an almighty clap of percussion.
West and Boink got the fuel drum at the bow of the raft into the river.
‘Push!’ yelled Cassidy.
Twenny, Leila, Ayesha, Ryder, Rutherford, Cassidy and I heaved and grunted and slipped around and the heavy main body of the raft began to slide over the reeds. A burst of automatic fire chewed into the bundle of saplings between Cassidy and me, sending blinding clouds of powdered wood into my eyes.
‘Get on!’ Cassidy and I shouted at our principals.
Searchlights on the truck suddenly blazed and lit up the reed beds and the air was alive with tracer, deadly supersonic red fireflies.
Ryder and Ayesha leaped onto the bundled saplings. I lifted Leila and threw her onto the raft after them. Twenny jumped on, followed by Boink. The tail of the raft slipped off the reeds into the deeper water and started to drift away with the current, leaving Cassidy and me behind in the reeds.
Cassidy jumped off the bank and got his hand on one of the saplings. I sprang after him, managed to grab a handful of his webbing and trailed behind him underwater. I coughed and gagged when I pulled myself above the water, but the weight of my gear dragged me under again. I felt myself hauled to the surface. I looked up and saw Rutherford, his hand clenched around my collar. Boink was pulling Cassidy onto the saplings. West came to Rutherford’s aid, grabbed my hand and pulled me up onto the raft as I hacked up a cupful of river slime.
Ayesha and Ryder were poling us along, glancing behind them as they dug into the mud. I looked back toward the clearing. The beams from the FARDC searchlights were dancing around, illuminating the spot in the otherwise unbroken darkness of the riverbank, and I saw that we were already a hundred meters down river. I caught a muzzle flash from an RPG and the grenade streaked toward us. It rocketed just over our heads and into the darkness of the forest and exploded in a bright orange display a hundred and fifty meters away, the delayed boom reaching us over a second later.
‘We got a problem here,’ said West over his shoulder.
‘Oh, really?’ I said under my breath. I moved unsteadily
toward him and saw that the raft had split in two. The long burst of automatic fire had torn through the liana that held the front and back of our craft together.
‘There are a dozen big holes in that drum up front, too,’ he said. ‘It’s filling fast and it’s going to sink.’
The raft spun lazily around its bow where the drum was located, our makeshift vessel coming apart, turning into driftwood.
Me and my black hat.
‘Everyone move to the rear section,’ West yelled as he cut through the last of the liana with his Ka-bar.
All of us were now sitting on just two of the bundles of saplings, which, carrying all our weight, were barely above the level of the water. As the wood became waterlogged, the raft would sink.
‘Are we gonna to be okay?’ I heard Leila ask.
‘We’re gonna be just fine,’ I heard Twenny say.
Fine. Yeah, that about summed it up.
Rutherford poled us around a couple of bends as the dawn turned into a dull morning, the sky low and heavy with rain clouds that looked like they’d gotten out of bed on the wrong side. Mist clung to the trees and hung over the water. Occasional howls and screeches from the rainforest knifed through the early morning quiet.
‘We got maybe another hour before we go under,’ West told me quietly.
‘We go as far as we can,’ I said. ‘Start looking for a place to step off. Let Rutherford know. I’ll tell Cassidy and Ryder to keep their eyes open.’
There was three inches of water lapping over the raft before, an hour and ten minutes later, we found another break in the heavy dark green greenery crowding the riverbank. The landing was well hidden by overhanging branches, but rows of thin poles were sunk into the mud a dozen meters into the main current, giving away its presence.
‘There’s going to be a village nearby,’ said West, gesturing at the poles. ‘They string nets to catch fish between them. And where there are nets, there are pirogues.’
I must have given him a look.
‘Pirogues – boats, dugouts,’ he said.
There was no sign of any village – just a solid wall of green that rose quickly to the base of a near-vertical wall of limestone around three hundred feet high, hung with ferns and vines.
Rutherford and Ryder took us over to the riverbank and we clambered onto white mud and then the raised ground behind it. All around was evidence of human activity hidden from the water: a table made from hardwood; and trash, lots of trash – old tins, plastic bags and drink containers, old lengths of rotted bamboo, tangled fishnet, plastic water bottles used as floats and watermelon rinds. A quick search of the surrounding brush didn’t turn up any boats, but there were steps cut into the damp earth in the hill behind the clearing, reinforced with worn hardwood logs.
West returned to the raft. Carrying no weight, it was floating a couple of inches above the surface of the water. He pushed it off the bank and using a pole shoved it out toward the main current. He was thinking the same thing I was: Lissouba wouldn’t stop. He’d come looking for us. Best not to hang out a sign that said ‘look here’.
‘If there is a village nearby, you’d think they’d come and see who just turned up on their front doorstep, wouldn’t you?’ Cassidy whispered to me out of our principals’ earshot.
Strangers in this place seemed to want to cut things, like appendages, off folks. Perhaps they were just plain wary. Whatever the reason, Cassidy was right. This place was quiet – like they say in the classics, too quiet.
‘I’m going to take Rutherford and scout around,’ I said. ‘What have we got left in the way of discouragement?’
‘A little frag, one Claymore, lots of smoke and whatever mags we’re carrying.’
In short, throwing spitballs was becoming an option. Also, the river continuing its course west rather than east, we were further away from Goma, Cyangugu and Mukatano. But, at least for now, no one was shooting at us, which made a pleasant change.
‘Keep a watch on the river,’ I said.
If there was one person I didn’t have to remind to stay sharp, it was Cassidy, but he nodded anyway.
Rutherford glanced in my direction. I sucked some water from my camelback to get the taste of the river out of my mouth and gestured at him to come over.
‘We’re going to have a snoop around,’ I told him. ‘Find out where every one’s hiding.’ Prior experience told me that I had to hold a conference and announce my intentions so that they could be approved. I went over to Leila and Twenny.
‘Where are we?’ Leila asked.
‘As a matter of fact,’ I said, ‘Rutherford and I are just going to take a quick walk up the hill and ask someone that very question. We’ll be back soon.’
‘What do you want Leila and me to do?’ Twenny asked.
I could think of a few things where Leila was concerned.
‘Stay out of sight until we return.’
‘We can do that, right?’ Twenny said to Leila. She gave him a hesitant nod.
Good luck with that, I thought. I repeated our intentions to Boink, Ayesha and Ryder and then asked the captain if he was up to taking the watch with Cassidy. He said he was. I didn’t want to disturb Peanut with details. He was making like a frog, hopping around, chasing a couple of them across the ground and into the trash heap.
‘Take the scope,’ said West, handing it over. ‘You might be able to see something useful when you get to higher ground.’
Rutherford and I went to the steps behind the hardwood table and started climbing through thick, wet palm fronds and elephant grass. Ten minutes later we were still climbing and the earth became a chalky limestone wall. Still no sign of human life. The wall had steps cut into it, which zigzagged ever higher. After a climb of over a hundred meters, we came to the lip, and a knoll covered in a close-cropped variety of grass opened out, surrounded by scrub. The presence of a manicured area the size of a couple of basketball courts somehow made the stillness all the more eerie. Folks had to manage this patch of turf – a kind of assembly area, I figured – keep it maintained. I looked back down at the river below, our landing hidden by the tree canopy. It was possible that no one saw us arrive, but I doubted that. The river, a dark brown snake coiling through the green of the rainforest, could be seen for some distance in both directions and I was relieved to find that it was clear of boats filled with soldiers, a point I further confirmed with the scope.
I heard an animal sound – a grunt. It came from the rainforest, which began where the grass ended. An adolescent pig appeared out of the darkness beneath the canopy, at the boundary line with the grass. Its arrival was a surprise, at least to us. The pig, however, looked our way as if we were expected. It then turned and waddled back in the direction it had come from, stopped, glanced back over its shoulder and eyeballed us as if to say, ‘You coming, or what?’ and moved off at a canter.
‘Hmm, ham,’ I said. ‘With luck, we’ll find cheese.’
We followed the pig. The path split into quite a few tributaries that threaded the rainforest dripping with rainwater, the dense canopy snuffng out much of the ambient light. Eventually, the trail thickened up, the tributaries rejoining, and exited the forest at the edge of a large banana plantation that opened out on either side of what was now a small road. The trees were hung with drooping purple sacks pregnant with flowers. More pigs wandered among the ordered rows and our guide trotted off to join them. I counted a dozen chickens scratching at the earth here and there. Rutherford and I stuck to the road and pushed on. Next came two large fields where rows of vegetables grew, bisected by the road. I could identify immature tomatoes, but the other plants were a mystery. Pigs were here too, digging up and eating whatever was interesting them. They were like kids causing mischief while the grown-ups were out. This was obviously a well-organized village with a sizeable population doing a good job of feeding itself. But where was this sizeable population? If an armed force had come through here and taken the villagers, they’d have pilfered the animals. I was mentally
basting a couple of those chickens myself. No, something else was going on around here and I didn’t like whatever it was.
Rutherford nudged me in the arm and gestured ahead. A roof thatched with dry grass beckoned through a gap in the trees. We headed for it along the path, looking for people but seeing no one. A monkey of some variety sat on a low bough and ate a snack between its hands, took a few fdgeting steps in our direction, stopped, nibbled some more, squealed and scampered up into the higher boughs. The thatched roof belonged to a large single hut. I heard flies buzzing and birds calling but still no human sounds.
The hut was open, the door wide. The M4 in my arms was on safety with a full mag loaded. I put my head around the corner. There was no porridge on the table, but I went in anyway. Rows of well-used shovels, rakes and other implements were neatly stacked against one wall. It was some kind of work barn. Most of the space was given over to furniture making. Half a dozen chairs were under construction, along with a few tables and beds. Benches were equipped with various woodworking tools, all of them manually rather than electrically powered – saws, drills, chisels and so forth. Checking down the far end of the barn, we found a potter’s wheel, a lump of white clay sitting on the wheel, too dry to be made into anything. On the wall behind the wheel were tiers of shelves lined with jugs, cups and bowls, all made from the white clay. There was a regular industry going on here. The village probably traded furniture and pots with other villages on the river. Interesting, but not as interesting as knowing where the hell everyone had gone off to.
Rutherford waited for me at the doorway. ‘This place is creeping me out.’
‘Keep an eye peeled for bears, Goldilocks,’ I said.
I took a couple of steps and stopped. I’d just caught a whiff of something familiar and unpleasant. Another few paces and I became enveloped by it: the smell of blood and feces and death. It hung between the bushes as if from a rope. My palms started sweating. The road curved around behind a small stand of banana trees and I saw a couple of dark brown feet lying on the trail. Opening out the angle, I saw that they were attached to a body curled in the fetal position, turned away from me.
Ghost Watch Page 39
