Tiffany lay in her blind, her senses suddenly screaming and on alert. She couldn’t believe that Dali had been so stupid to make a noise. It had sounded like he had dropped something, or worse had tripped. But all had gone quiet again in an instant. It was then she realised that she was trembling. Something wasn’t right.
The pain in her left leg was so sudden and severe that her whole body convulsed with the agony. She screamed as she was dragged from the blind, scrabbling for the dropped rifle moments too late. She felt herself hauled upwards by whatever had her ankle, as she clawed at the ground to no avail. Her body was lifted into the air, as the loose covering of leaves and sticks were thrashed away. Suddenly the pain stopped, as the clamping pressure on her leg was released. She was shaking violently now, and she felt the panic in her chest rising as a low, guttural growl emanated from close behind her. She spun onto her back and froze in fright. A pale, long, fierce and feline face looked back at her with strange bluish eyes. She shuddered as it exhaled a wet hot breath, so close that she felt it on her skin.
As she tried to scrabble away on her hands, she saw the gaping wound in her right calf muscle through the torn trousers. She had already lost the boot somehow. The big cat swatted her onto her back with a casual blow of its paw. Tiffany screamed again as she watched it loom closer. The big female ignored the noise, opening her mouth and sinking her teeth into Tiffany’s chest, the five and a half inch canines piercing the left breast and cutting off the girl’s screams as a new wave of agony swept her body. Tiffany felt cold and numb as she began to drift away, her arms flailing as she weakened. Warm thick liquid began to pool in her throat, and her eyes bulged as she slowly began to drown in the blood collecting there and in her chest cavity. The clamping bite of the cat had already cut off the muscles that would have naturally allowed her to choke and vomit it up. A final violent spasm quivered through her limbs as life left her.
~
She began to feast on the warm human flesh immediately. The two sisters soon joined her. The five others had driven them off the man they had killed almost immediately. They could be heard scrapping over the remains, but the sisters knew the others would not be bold enough to approach them whilst she remained close. She ate steadily, watching them as she did, and warning them against coming closer with a low, purposeful growl. Satiated, she stepped off the carcass. This was the signal the sisters had been waiting for, and they pushed their noses past the bloodied and fleshy ribs as they savoured the remaining morsels.
She settled by the feet of the corpse, taking the bare and bootless one within her paws. Her rasping tongue began to remove the skin and released slow oozes of fresh blood onto her tongue. She enjoyed the sweet and coppery taste and began to gnaw, slicing off the toes with scissor like bites using her carnassials. When she had finished, she tugged and clawed at the boot on the other foot until it came off, consuming it in the same manner.
She lay in the blood soaked grass, panting casually as twilight began to paint the savannah in eerie sepia light. She stood and held her head high, and roared.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Thomas sat on the rattan sofa outside on the tent’s veranda and watched as the sun began to set. Catherine was curled up next to him, exhausted by the day’s events and dozing fitfully. Every now and then, Thomas thought he could hear a muffled sob come from Kelly’s tent next door. Saka lay in the warm dirt a few yards away and watched Thomas, seemingly succumbing to the apathy that gripped the camp. All was quiet.
Thomas turned his head as he picked up the noise of the Warthog’s engine coming from down the track. Saka too, lifted her head and pricked her ears. As soon as the headlights came into view, she stood and stretched, yapping and squeaking excitedly as the car approached. Thomas waited as Jericho opened the door for Rhodes and grabbed his pack from the passenger side. As the Irishman walked up, Thomas could see he was tired from the journey. He tried to carefully dislodge himself from underneath Catherine’s head, but she woke as soon as he stirred. He smiled at her kindly and nodded his head in Jericho’s direction.
“Why do you two look worse than I feel?” Jericho asked, pausing by the deck.
“We had some lion trouble,” Thomas sighed. “We lost Karni.”
“Shit,” Jericho spat.
“How did your shopping trip go?”
“Three bottles. There was more on the shelf too. I got the impression they had regular demand for it.”
Jericho took the containers out of his bag and passed them to Thomas. He examined them, guessing they were just repackaged commercially available scent lures for mountain lion. Although African lions were a sociable species, they still lacked a tolerance for other cats and would move in on any alien scent they picked up within their territory. It didn’t really matter which feline species the lure was originally intended for, the lions would definitely be interested if they picked it up.
“When were you thinking of conducting your little experiment?” Jericho asked.
“I don’t think we can afford to wait around and keep putting things off until tomorrow. There’s no time like the present as far as I’m concerned,” Thomas replied.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Catherine exclaimed.
“No, but I can’t sit here doing nothing. Not tonight.”
“What’s the plan?” Jericho asked.
“For a start, you get the night off. You stay here and keep things in check in camp,” Thomas smiled. “I’m going to set up in the tree where somebody took a pot shot at the crew truck and...”
“Somebody shot at them?” Jericho interrupted.
“Took out the engine, from about a mile away. Left them for sitting ducks,” Thomas nodded.
He walked to the table opposite the sofa and picked up a piece of metal that was sitting on it, passing it to Jericho. The Irishman brought it up to his eye for a closer look, examining it carefully as he turned it over through his fingers.
“I think our problems just got worse,” Jericho said with a sigh. “I’ve seen something like this before. That’s a 50. calibre bullet, at least what’s left of it. I dug a few of these out of a pair of black rhino in Tanzania last year. I only know one asshole using them, and capable of making the shot you’re talking about. It looks like we’ve caught the attention of Viktor Kruger, a poacher. Nasty fellow. He’s the one I think is after Sefu and my elephants.”
“What’s the connection to Kanu Sultan do you think?” Thomas asked.
“Oh I imagine it helps to be friends with a local war lord and arms dealer. It’s rumoured he favours a modified Christensen Arms rifle with a carbon fibre barrel. Not exactly an off the shelf item.”
“With a year long waiting list from what I hear,” Thomas nodded. “Can’t imagine there’s too many places in East Africa you can get 50. cal ammo either.”
“I’m pretty sure he makes his own. No doubt Kanu Sultan probably refreshes his supply from time to time too.”
“How dangerous is he? Do you think he may have been hired to kill us?” Catherine asked.
“I doubt it,” Jericho shook his head. “At least not directly. You’re not going to get shot, if that’s what you’re worried about. But left for the lions, or sold into modern day slavery, that’s a possibility. We’re not talking about Florence Nightingale here, put it that way.”
“Very reassuring,” Catherine muttered.
“Anyway,” said Thomas, “I think at least two of the lions were lying up in a thicket not far from the tree he used. If the others return there, or even if the one that got away today is still around, I’m in the mood to dish out some payback.”
“Speaking of which,” said Jericho, “what’s the tally?”
“I think they’re down by eight now, not including that young male.”
“That leaves fourteen by Jelani’s count,” Catherine added. “Still a substantial pride by any means.”
“Exactly why we need to keep at them. They’ll definitely be feeling the pressure,” Thoma
s said. “They’ve never come up against resistance like us.”
“That’s a two way street,” Jericho said with a growl. “The score’s even at the moment remember. I don’t think we’ve got them running scared yet.”
“Catherine is going to stay here with you on the radio,” Thomas continued, ignoring Jericho’s warning. “I’ll take the Big Cat, lay the scent, and get comfortable in the tree. There’s a good moon tonight, so I should be able to see fairly well, but I’ll have a thermal scope anyway.”
Thomas walked over to the gun rack and lifted his rifle from it. He carried it to the equipment tent and laid it on the table, quickly removing the day scope from its mount. He took out a small case and opened it, revealing a scope with a much larger aperture. It was an Armasight Drone Pro night vision lens. Its lithium batteries offered him approximately three hours of use, which would be more than enough to get him through the night. He took a moment to adjust the quick release mounts and then slid the scope onto the rifle. He checked the magazine and made sure the cartridge loops of his safari vest were filled with spare ammunition.
His rucksack hadn’t been emptied since he’d returned to Anga ya Amani, and was still perched on the rear bench seat of the Big Cat. Like everyone else in camp, he didn’t seem that hungry and wasn’t planning on waiting around for dinner. The biltong would suffice. He took out the two canteens from the bag and refilled them with fresh water. Catherine appeared at his side, brandishing a new radio too.
“Just in case the batteries are getting low on the one you took out earlier,” she explained. “Remember what happened last time you decided to go tree climbing.”
“Well it wasn’t so bad,” Thomas laughed. “It worked out pretty well in the end as I recall.”
“Yeah well, fool me once. Second time round, you’ll be in serious trouble.”
She kissed him, pressing hard against his lips. He pulled her closer. They both still sported bruises from the last few days, but they embraced the pain. It reminded them they were still alive, still fighting. And this was what they were fighting for.
“Best be off now, before I decide on stopping you altogether,” Jericho warned, looking towards the setting sun.
Thomas walked out to the Big Cat and slung his bag onto the passenger seat. He put the rifle onto the rack in the light rig, and checked the Anaconda was still snug in the interior pocket of his safari vest. He slipped the black cattleman hat on, and tipped its rim in Catherine’s direction as he started the engine and headed off down the track.
The savannah was painted in the deep rust red light of the setting sun. He guessed he had about forty minutes left before the light really started to disappear. As it was now, it was quite intense and he brought the rim of the hat down further to block out the glare. After a little while, the track turned naturally away from the direct path of the sun and he relaxed more. The supercharger whirred into life as he put his foot down a little and the tyres eagerly bit into the dirt as he belted along a straight bit of road. As he crested a slight rise, he saw the hillside where Keelson and the others had been attacked ahead. He looked to his right and spotted the flat toped acacia he’d sat in earlier. He tugged at the wheel and steered the Big Cat speeding into the long grass, the back end of the truck breaking loose for a moment as he did so. He corrected it with a grin, then turned sharply left as he discovered the track that Kruger had undoubtedly used and would lead to the tree.
Thomas brought the Big Cat to a halt a few yards from the acacia. He paused as he spotted a lone sable antelope bolt away then come to a halt a little further off, alert and watching. He knew there had always been a remnant population in the Shimba Hills reserve, to the east near Mombasa, but they were still a very rare animal, especially on the borders of Tsavo West National Park. He took it as a good sign, that possibly the Shimba population was expanding. They were without a doubt one of his most favourite animals. He could tell it was a male from the black glossy coat and the striking black and white markings on its face. Its impressive, scimitar shaped and heavily ridged horns were nearly five feet long, and clearly not just for decoration. The top foot or so of each was completely smooth, to allow for easier goring.
The bull sable let out a snort of indignation and Thomas decided now was not the time to get out of the car. He watched as the neck muscles of the sable bulged and the stiff hairs of its mane bristled. Sable antelope seemed to always emanate an aura of constant malcontent, as if they had a permanent chip on their shoulder. Thomas sighed, as he knew this was one of the reasons they were considered such a trophy amongst sport hunters. This bull was nearly 500lbs he guessed, a considerable prize, especially for an eastern sable as this undoubtedly was. As he watched the bull walk away, Thomas couldn’t understand what trophy hunters gained from taking the life of such an animal. To see it bellow, snort and strut was a far more awe inspiring experience. Watching a sable was never boring.
Thomas remembered taking drinks on the terrace of the private suite of the Belmond Khwai River Lodge in Botswana. He had been with Amanda, and they were enjoying their sundowners when the entire compound had erupted into turmoil. The luxurious camp boasted a swimming pool over twenty yards long. It was surrounded by a strong wire fence, with woven grass panels and an entrance via a baffle door, set up like the burladero of a bull ring. To any hippo or buffalo wandering close out of curiosity, the fence appeared solid, whilst guests slipped past the baffle into the tranquil and private pool area. But that evening it sounded like a riot in a zoo. Thomas had looked at Amanda completely bemused, as grunts and snorts were followed by the sound of hooves against flagstone. It was only when the snarl and roar of a lion had interrupted the symphony of noise that Thomas had dashed inside for his gun and headed for the pool area.
As he had edged round the entrance, he’d only had a matter of seconds to throw himself out of the way, as a colossal sable bull crashed through the fencing and into the baffle. It displayed incredible strength as it dislodged itself from the splintered wood and disappeared into the night with another rattle of hooves, trailing a section of the wire fencing behind it. As Thomas peered back round the baffle, he saw a dead lioness slowly sinking to the bottom of the pool. Her venting blood was slowly turning the water the colour of strawberry milkshake, and it was decided her hasty removal from the pool was perhaps the best next course of action to help return the evening to its former sense of calm. When he and several members of the lodge staff managed to remove it, they discovered the top section of one of the sable’s horns sticking about an inch through the top of her skull. The root of the broken shard of horn was found just below her chin, and from there it had smashed through the rest of her skull and brain casing with little resistance. Only tossing the lioness into the pool had broken the horn, her bulky mass too much even for the sable’s impressive weaponry.
Thomas gazed to the north, towards the lush forested hills of Chyulu Hills National Park. Somewhere out there, beyond his line of sight, was the pretty gorge that looked back over Tsavo West. Desert rose, peacock flower, elephant’s foot and bauhinia had carpeted the rocky outcrops and crags, whilst lion’s claw, St John’s wort and sugar bush shrubs had lined the stone walls on either side. Stunning flame canopied Poinciana trees stood side by side with lavender boughs of cape chestnuts. It had been one of Amanda’s favourite places, where she would often come to read or just contemplate their adventures. It had been a fitting place to scatter her ashes. He had never been back. He decided that it was something he should do, when all this was over.
Sure that the sable had finally moved on, Thomas climbed out of the car and took the bottle of scent lure out of the bag. He took the rifle down from the rack, and slung it over his shoulder as he began to backtrack down the trail. Every twenty to thirty yards, he would stop and lace an area of ground with the pungent chemical taint. Up close and in concentrated form it was unbearably musky and potent. Thomas made sure he stood upwind and let the breeze take the odour away from him. The one thing he didn�
�t want to smell like, once up in the tree, was a lion. As he made his way back to the acacia and the car, he took handfuls of the dry earth and rubbed it onto his skin and clothing, dusting it off with clumps of parched grass to mask his own scent. He would try to stay upwind as best as possible, but he knew the breeze could change at any moment. His best bet was to stay quiet and still.
Thomas took a blanket from the truck bed of the Big Cat and tucked it under the strap of the rifle, so it was easy to carry as he scrambled up the tree. He took a final look back at the car and considered moving it back a little so it was even closer. But he was satisfied that if he had to leap to the ground and sprint, he would make the relative safety of the car before anything caught up with him. He pulled himself up into the branches, past the fork where he had previously sat. Not quite elevated enough for his liking, he clambered higher until he found a thick, flattish bough that he could swing his legs over whilst resting his back against the main trunk. He held himself in place as he folded the blanket in half, so the bottom part would cushion him against the bark and the top could be draped over his shoulders when he got cold. He squirmed and wriggled until he was comfortable and settled against the tree, watching the sun as it slowly began to set.
The landscape seemed Martian as it became painted in the intense red light, blending into the already amber and rust like colourations of the grassland and rocky outcrops. The thicket to the north was now silhouetted and sullen, just a group of dark and ominous shadows on the horizon. Thomas sat up as he heard the querying, rolling yowl of a spotted hyena. Moments later he watched it lope out of the grass and lift its nose to the air in the direction of the tree. Clearly it was picking up the chemical lure and didn’t like what it signalled. Thomas guessed the animal was a good 170lbs and looked stocky and mean with it. Hyena females had to be bigger and more aggressive than the males in order to protect against infanticide. They also led the clans, some of which could be as large as eighty in number. The size and swagger of this animal almost certainly suggested it was both a female and an alpha. It wrinkled its nose in a growl, which then rose into a wailing yikker and the characteristic laughing call. It trotted away in a wide loop though the grass, occasionally looking back over its shoulder.
The Daughters of the Darkness Page 24
