The Daughters of the Darkness

by Luke Phillips

  “Quite the little fighter hey,” Catherine cooed as Saka tilted her head back towards her, now rubbing her head on her lap as she had done to Thomas.

  The dogs bumped heads casually and walked side by side out onto the kopje. They lay down a few yards from the table, seemingly enjoying the touch of the early morning sun. As Thomas and the others helped themselves to the lavish breakfast, the dogs were thrown the odd sausage or sliver of bacon. There was certainly enough for all.

  “Jelani is going to stay here and sort out the camp as well as taking care of reporting the hippo, so I’ll take you out today,” Jericho explained. “He can look after these two whilst we take a day of safari.”

  “I think the guys and I are going to acclimatise today and take stock of the equipment, get set up, that kind of thing,” Keelson added. “Mason did manage to get some great footage of the hippo attack though, so he’s pretty pleased.”

  “He’s his father’s son all right” Thomas laughed.

  Suddenly, Saka sat up, her large black ears pricked and pointed down the gorge. She stood slowly, leaning into the wind. After a while, she turned and looked at Thomas. He stood up and walked over to her, stroking her back with the tips of his fingers as he stood beside her. He cupped his hands behind his ears and listened in the direction Saka was staring. He turned back to the others, all watching him from the table.

  “Elephants,” he grinned. “Time to get out on that safari I’d say.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Thomas emerged from the tent, dressed in sand coloured lightweight trousers and a matching shooting vest. Underneath was a light blue linen shirt, which he’d rolled the sleeves of up to the elbows.

  “My, don’t you look quite the Bwana,” Jericho called over from the gun rack.

  Thomas walked over to join him. He was at least glad the Irishman had found a shirt, and was sporting a pair of safari trousers. As Thomas approached, he noticed he was filling an ammunition belt with the torpedo shaped bullets for his own weapon, a Merkel 500 Nitro Express rifle.

  “That thing’s a howitzer,” grinned Thomas. “We’re just meant to be enjoying the wildlife today, remember.”

  “Well like my old scout leader used to say, be prepared,” Jericho smirked. “Plus, I know you. You can’t help but go looking for trouble.”

  “Don’t normally need to,” shrugged Thomas, “it usually has a pretty good bead on where I’m at already.”

  “Well, if it wasn’t for bad luck my old Bwana,” Jericho smiled, as Catherine joined them.

  “Why do you and Jelani keep calling him Bwana?” Catherine asked.

  “It’s a rather old fashioned, but respectful word meaning boss in Swahili,” Thomas explained.

  “And they don’t have a word for fugly,” Jericho said with a wink.

  Catherine laughed. Thomas was glad that even just a few hours of sleep seemed to have lightened the mood, and he knew Jericho was helping with that. She looked much less tired today, and the sparkle in her eyes had been refreshed. The slight curl in her red hair made it hang down in tufts on the side of her face, peeking out from the rim of her hat. She brushed a few stray strands form her neck, smiling at Thomas.

  “Mansa is preparing a picnic lunch for us,” Jericho explained. “I’ve put plenty of water into the car, but fill up a canteen anyway.”

  Mansa appeared from the kitchen, carrying a picnic hamper and a large canvas bag. He passed them, heading in the direction of the cars.

  “I presumed you didn’t mind taking yours, seeing as mine’s only got the two seats,” smiled Jericho.

  “God, that means I have to let you drive,” groaned Thomas.

  Thomas helped Jericho load the Big Cat with a few supplies. He put both their guns into the rack on the back of the custom light rig. He checked over the first aid kit, and put the lunch into an air tight and refrigerated container underneath the rear bench. Finally, he made sure the jerry can on the back of the truck bed was attached and full, just in case. He walked back round to find Catherine sitting in the front passenger seat. She smiled smugly, as she finished fitting a small zoom lens to her Fujifilm camera.

  “I have a present for you,” he said softly, taking out a leather pouch from behind his back, passing it to her.

  She took it from him and opened it up. She took out the cocoa coloured binoculars and looked at him quizzically.

  “I thought you might find these a bit handier than the big 12x50 pair you have. They’re made by Swarovski and treated for the light conditions of the Serengeti. They also weigh a lot less, being 8x30s. They’ll be great for spotting before you take a snap,” he explained.

  “Thank you,” she beamed, leaning out of the window to kiss him on the cheek.

  “Ready to hit the trail?” Jericho asked, climbing into the driver’s seat.

  “Absolutely,” replied Catherine, as Thomas took his seat behind her.

  Jericho glanced back at him with a sly smile then turned back and started the car. They rolled out of the camp, with waves to Jelani and the men as they turned onto the dirt road that had led them to the camp the day before. As Jericho slid the rest of the windows down, Thomas reached through from the back to the centre console, and flicked the switch that turned on the cooling fans built into the seats. He slumped back into his own with a satisfied grin as Jericho rolled his eyes.

  As they bumped along the track, they found their first subjects. An ostrich family were foraging through the rough edges of the road, making the most of the natural border to the grassland on either side. Jericho slowed, keeping his eye on the impressive black and white male as it stepped towards them, putting itself between the car and the female and her chicks. It turned its head to the side and opened its beak threateningly, ruffling its wings from side to side as it did so. As they got a little closer, Catherine realised just how many chicks the pair had, with at least thirty of the brown headed balls of fluff following the female off into the grass on the left-hand side of the road.

  “It’s a crèche,” Jericho explained, seeing her surprise. “These two must be a dominant pair, and they look after and raise the majority of the offspring. There will be a few more females and sub-adults around somewhere though.”

  Catherine nodded as the car pulled off again. The male, standing at over eight feet high, watched them warily as they passed. It followed behind them in a sudden charge, catching up with them in a few lengthy strides. Catherine couldn’t help but notice the impressive spur at the end of the largest toe on each foot. She didn’t find it difficult to believe the legendary power of an ostrich kick, said to be capable of killing a human or lion that got too close, maybe even disembowelling them. But the male’s charge became half-hearted and it soon peeled off back into the grass after a few seconds. Just as Jericho had said, as they rounded a corner, they caught sight of another mottled brown female and a larger juvenile joining them. Catherine took a quick glance at the snaps she’d taken on the camera’s screen. She shot Thomas a huge smile when she looked up.

  Their next encounter was also avian in nature. The grey-backed secretary bird stalked the grassland to their right, seemingly oblivious to their presence. Its red eye patch and yellow hooked beak gave it a menacing and purposeful appearance, but with its black tipped wings and tail, Catherine found it beautiful. As it strutted close to them, it suddenly darted forward, flapping its wings and thrashing at the ground with powerful strikes of its long yellow legs. It dashed forward again, using its wings to flush out whatever it was striking at. Just as quickly, the bird stopped, ducking its head out of sight, only to reappear again with what Thomas recognised as a brown house snake it its beak. It proceeded to swallow the reptile whole, taking it down in a series of large gulps. The bird then cocked its head and continued its patrol of the straw-coloured grass as if nothing had happened.

  Further along the trail, Jericho swung the car onto a lower road that took them to the river. He confidently swung the car into the shallows, creating a wash that surged from the
front and sides of the vehicle. Jolts were sent through the chassis as the Big Cat bucked over unseen rocks and gouges along the riverbed. With the water lapping at the tops of the wheels, Thomas was glad the snorkel exhaust was still functioning after all these years. Jericho looked round at him with a grin as they pulled out onto the track on the other side of the crossing.

  There were fewer trees and belts of woodland this side of the river, with more open grassland and rust coloured rocky outcrops. The landscape was still dotted with flat-topped acacias and the occasional bulbous trunked baobab tree though. The sun was climbing high now, and the heat of the day was seeping into the cabin of the car. They trundled forward, following the river again from the other bank, climbing a little as they followed the ridge.

  They pulled up and watched a troop of olive baboons cross the road, their passage guarded by a large male, who yawned at the car, displaying his two-inch long canines and gums by throwing back his head. He let out a loud grunt that built into a howl as he sat up on his haunches, asserting his dominance in a threat display. When the rest of the band had crossed, the male rolled into a standing position and sauntered after them, with an occasional glance over his shoulder as they passed.

  A little further on, Jericho brought the car to a halt as they crested the ridgeline. He pointed down to the opposite bank of the river, where hundreds of small holes had been bored into the crumbling earth. Emerging from them were beautiful pink and green coloured birds with long, curved black beaks.

  “Carmine bee-eaters,” Jericho explained. “They breed at the hottest time of the year, when the river is low and there is less risk of flooding.”

  They sat and watched the birds sunning themselves on the bank, spreading their wings out wide on the ground.

  “Because they live in such large colonies they are prone to parasites, so they literally burn the bugs off their backs,” Jericho continued.

  Suddenly, in a huge swirl of commotion, the colourful birds rose into the air, bolting across the water towards them. Thomas glanced instinctively up river and caught sight of a huge shape plummeting through the air towards them. The great chestnut bodied bird shot past them in a powerful glide, revealing its gleaming white head, breast and tail. The African fish eagle reached out with a yellow talon and plucked a bee-eater from the air with ease, a single beat of its wings taking it to the top of a thorny acacia where it picked its meal clean before tearing into the meat. Their sheen dulled by death, the pink, teal and yellow coloured feathers floated down from the tree in a morbid, rainbow cascade.

  Catherine’s camera whirred and snapped as she took picture after picture, never rushing a shot and carefully repositioning each time. Happy, she glanced back to Thomas with a beaming smile, her eyes electrified with excitement.

  “That was amazing,” she laughed, throwing her hands up joyfully. She reached behind her and took Thomas’s hand, squeezing it lovingly.

  “It’s all down to the guide,” Thomas smiled.

  “To be sure,” nodded Jericho with a wink.

  Catherine reviewed some of the shots of the eagle’s attack, occasionally lifting the camera up to show Thomas her work with some pride. He shone with his own pride. Her natural skill with a camera was something he had been enamoured with since they had been together, and many of her best shots now sat framed along the walls of his study. Even at the office at the Highland Wildlife Research Centre, Thomas had encouraged her to put pictures up. He thought it was the perfect place for them, and many guests and visitors had admired her skill, just as he was doing so now.

  They continued along the trail, with Catherine taking pictures as they went, trying to capture the strange, red coloured landscape and its scrubby countryside, peppered with thickets and termite mounds surrounded by slabs of dark volcanic rock. It seemed eerie to Catherine, never really opening up into open grassland, making it feel claustrophobic and impenetrable.

  They stopped for their lunch on a small kopje that overlooked the river gorge. Thomas pointed out a pair of klipspringers that studied them cautiously from its furthest outreaches. The small, strong and stocky looking antelopes were buff in colour, with washed out chins and muzzles. Their flanks were grey, giving way to white underbellies. Catherine couldn’t help but laugh as they flicked their zebra-striped ears towards them every now and then, giving them a distinctly odd appearance.

  Jericho lay out a large woollen blanket on a flat piece of rock and unpacked the picnic. Thomas and Catherine joined him. She watched as Jericho reached over the side of the truck-bed and pulled his gun off the rack, resting it up against the door of the Big Cat, close to where he sat.

  “I guess you can never really get away from the fact that there are animals willing to kill you out here,” Catherine said, almost to herself.

  “It’s not especially open here,” replied Jericho, “you never know what might wander out of the bush. Man-eaters are just one thing we have to worry about. But an elephant, buffalo, rhino or hippo will happily make a mess of you too, given the opportunity and motivation.”

  Catherine loaded a plate with a tomato and sweet corn salad. As she put it down to grab a piece of the cold, roasted francolin meat Thomas offered her, she noticed one of the klipspringers take a few bold steps towards them. She looked back round to Thomas, who smiled at her.

  “They’re either not very used to people, or far too used to them,” he observed.

  Catherine held out the plate, curious to see if it would approach closer. It did, taking a few more tentative steps. It continued edging closer until it could swipe a mouthful of leaves off the plate, skipping nimbly back to the other straight after. Satisfied, the two small antelopes disappeared from sight over the other side of the outcrop.

  “Jelani tells me this was a favourite picnic rock of Colonel Patterson, the hunter of the original Tsavo man-eaters himself,” remarked Jericho, “which is quite likely given that the place is hardly riddled with pristine spots.”

  “I know he was partial to a swim in the river, and this wouldn’t be a bad place to do it,” Thomas added.

  “The guy was an idiot,” Jericho replied, rolling his eyes. “The only thing that got him through the whole debacle was the luck of the Irish. Swimming in a crocodile infested river is just more proof.”

  “I don’t think you’re being especially fair to him,” Thomas said. “He was an experienced tiger hunter, but I know what you mean.”

  “Aye, but he tried to hunt lions like they were tigers. Sitting up in trees, or worse, on a damn machan. How many times did he position himself over an old kill, expecting the boys to come back, only to hear his men being ripped to pieces elsewhere in the camp? And how many pot-shots did he take at them? By the time he was through, he could have just used a magnet to draw them into camp with the amount of shrapnel he’d riddled their hides with.”

  “He definitely made mistakes,” Thomas sighed.

  “He repeated his several times. That’s not bravery, that’s thick-headedness,” scolded Jericho.

  “Can’t imagine where he’d get it from,” Thomas grinned.

  “You’re just lucky this Irishman has more sense,” Jericho shrugged.

  “You hide it well,” Thomas replied.

  “I find the specimens themselves interesting,” Catherine interjected. “Both were over nine feet long, considered very large, and were virtually maneless. And they were very pale in colour too. And if even just some of their reported behaviour was true then they were definitely out of the ordinary.”

  “Well you don’t kill 140 people by being ordinary,” Jericho laughed.

  “That’s a highly dubious number given recent research,” Catherine snapped back. “Studies of certain isotopic signatures in their bone collagen and hair keratin suggested that the first lion Patterson shot ate around 24 people, whilst the second scoffed a mere ten. Even the railway company records state only 28 losses.”

  “Patterson’s numbers may well have been exaggerated, but the studies you mention don�
��t account for the practice runs that all man-eaters make, or the number of people they kill and don’t eat,” argued Thomas.

  “They were also killing people for over nine months. Those isotope readings were taken on specimens over a hundred years old in very poor condition, with no accurate way of measuring assimilative breakdown of the elements. It also presumes that the lions ate each person whole. What if they just took the good bits? Many man-eaters do you know,” added Jericho.

  “We know,” replied Thomas and Catherine together.

  Thomas leaned over and stroked the top of Catherine’s hand with his thumb as he took her hand in his. His heart thumped loud in his chest as his head was flooded with images of the Highland cat’s rampage.

  “Anyway, this was meant to be a day without man-eaters,” Thomas stated. “Let’s get back to our day of safari.”

  They packed away the picnic and climbed back into the car. Jericho continued to follow the track west along the riverbank. As they rounded a sweeping bend, they were greeted with the noise they had been searching for. Loud rumblings and excited trumpets resonated from just up ahead of them. Jericho changed down a gear and turned off the track, ploughing through the river again at another crossing point. The water came up to the wheel tops this time, but they were soon climbing the opposite bank. Jericho turned the car west again. As they cleared a thick patch of scrub, he brought the car to a halt and pointed up river.

  Ahead of them the river widened, and a sandbank at its middle split a deep pool off from the main current and flow, although it was still open at both ends. A group of about twelve elephants were using the pool as their personal spa. Catherine was surprised by their dark red colouring that matched the landscape. Some were lying on their sides, lazily lifting their trunks above the water. Others kneeled, semi-submerged and clearly enjoying the coolness of the mud and water. The group was made up of females, and the matriarch stood at the water’s edge, close to a slightly smaller cow who was nursing a calf. The water lapped up past the calf’s tummy, and it seemed unsure if it should panic or delight in this. With a gentle and encouraging nudge from its mother, the calf took a lunge into the water and began splashing wildly. Catherine laughed as it made a mock charge through the water towards the matriarch, who cuffed the youngster gently with a touch of her trunk behind its outspread ears.