Every Serengeti Sunrise

by Rula Sinara

  “How do they do that? Make an escape from death look so elegant?” Maddie asked, though it was more of an observation than a question.

  “Each one of them is part of a larger consciousness. No radios, no time to call the one at the end of the line. No time for red tape and paperwork. They haven’t lost touch with one another. They still have the ability to sense one another, to feel each other’s energy and to know they don’t stand alone. They are part of something much bigger and greater than any single individual in the herd. By being in sync, in tune, with others around them, their chance for survival is much higher. Working together for the better,” Haki said.

  He’d witnessed this time and time again in the behavior of animals. People—not so much. Then again, according to his readings, humans tended to be more focused on the self. The vast majority didn’t pay attention to or believe in collective energy or, put more simply, intuition.

  Was that what made people like the Laibon different? Was that what Haki was sensing right now? Was the tug at the pit of his stomach, the swirling feeling in his chest, the warm awareness of every atom in his body, all a result of Maddie being near him?

  Was he sensing her?

  Was she sensing him?

  “Like starlings before a storm,” she whispered, as she stared at the flow of the herd below, but he heard so much more in her words. The cheetah lunged and a younger zebra stumbled and fell on its side. Maddie’s eyes glistened and her chin barely quivered.

  Haki swallowed hard. Yes, starlings before a storm. He wanted desperately to wrap his hand around hers. He needed to pull her close and feel her heart beating against his as if his life depended on it, but whatever energy was flowing between them, it had to be ignored. If not, the damage from the resulting storm would be too high a price to pay. Pippa would end up the victim and he knew neither of them could live with that.

  Maybe this was a case where the needs of the individual—Pippa—outweighed those of the herd. Or maybe humans were just too complicated.

  CHAPTER NINE

  WISPS OF SMOKE rose from the kindling, twisting and twirling like sultry dancers in the spotlight of a Masai moon. Maddie hugged her knees to her chest and watched as the first flame shot up, chasing the dancers higher and higher until they fell apart and faded away. The fire cracked and popped as Haki fed it more wood.

  “Your mom packed more food than I keep stocked for a week back in my apartment,” Maddie said, picking up her thermos and spoon when Haki finally sat down. He’d urged her to go ahead and eat while he got the fire started, but doing so hadn’t felt right. She put a bite of spiced beans, corn and diced potato in her mouth. “Mmm. This githeri is so good.”

  “She does love to cook.” He sat down, opened his thermos and set the cover on the cooler they were using as a makeshift table between their camp chairs. “Have some chapati with that.”

  She ripped one of the flatbreads in half, cupped it like a taco and put a spoonful of githeri inside. At this rate, she couldn’t imagine being hungry in the morning, but there were boiled eggs and fruit packed away in the cooler, too. She washed down her bite with a swig of water.

  Dusk settled all around them and cricket song filled the air. Night sounds were mesmerizing, and for the most part the rhythm of grunts, cackles and chirps was calming, but the deep bass of a lion’s roar from somewhere in the tall grasses behind her had her jumping to her feet and dropping her spoon.

  “Don’t worry, Maddie-girl. It’s not as close as it sounds.” He chuckled and she shot him a look. “I’m not laughing. I swear. I was choking on a bean.”

  “Yeah, right,” she said, picking up her spoon. “For the record, I wasn’t scared. It just startled me.”

  “Noted.”

  “Although, maybe we should have set up camp where you pictured building a cabin.”

  “So the invisible walls could protect you?”

  “Because it’s a little higher up.” She glanced at the one-man pup tent he’d set up. “And because, as far as I’m concerned, a tent with a broken zipper is useless.”

  “I promise we’re fine right here. I’m sorry about the tent. Huru was the last one to borrow it and it was fine before that. He must have broken it and figured I wouldn’t notice for a while. He knows I don’t use it unless it’s raining. If you aren’t comfortable sleeping on the ground, with or without the tent, you can curl up in the jeep. You pick. Height or cover.”

  He had her there. The jeep might work. Anything could crawl into the tent without him noticing. The jeep was in plain view. The memory of that one night as a kid when a snake had gotten cozy at the foot of her sleeping bag made her skin crawl. It had been enough to scare her off sleeping bags and sleeping on the ground for life.

  “I hadn’t thought of the jeep.”

  She looked behind her one more time before finishing her food. Neither said much, but the silence didn’t bother her. There was a certain comfort to simply being here with him and not arguing about why she was on this trip in the first place.

  The fire hissed and he poked at it with a long stick. Maddie got up to retrieve her notebook and pen from the jeep. She returned, sat down and flipped through the pages.

  “I know I’m not the best of company, but I thought you were at least enjoying the fire and relaxing,” Haki said.

  “Why do you say that?”

  He motioned toward her notebook. “Back to work at this hour. You’re one of those, huh?”

  “You mean someone who doesn’t have an off switch when it comes to work? The type who takes her office home with her at the end of a day?”

  “Something like that.”

  She stopped on a blank page, drew a tic-tac-toe board and held the page up for him to see.

  “It’s not chess, but I thought it would pass some time.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her and a smile formed on his lips.

  “I stand corrected,” he said.

  She sat back down, set the open page on the cooler between them and handed him the pen. He marked an X and held up the pen without lifting his arm from where it rested on the cooler. She marked an O. Their hands rested there, close enough to pass the pen back and forth without effort. Close enough for their fingers to brush innocently every few moves.

  “You’re too easy to beat at this,” she said. “How is it you’re a chess genius, but you can’t beat me at a simple game like this? Unless you’re letting me win.”

  “Let you win? I don’t play with fire. You’d kill me. The first time I took it easy on you in chess, you got kind of scary.”

  She laughed and flipped to a new page.

  “Yeah, I remember that. Here. Try this for more of a challenge.” She drew a hangman’s noose and set up blanks for her secret word.

  “You always did love word games. I bet you do the crossword puzzles in the newspaper every weekend.”

  “Totally.”

  “I remember when Jack and Anna brought back that board game with the loose tiles. You used to beat everyone.”

  “And you got a little scary when you lost,” she said.

  He wrote his letter guesses down and she marked them off or filled them in as they chatted. They had a rhythm going with the pen being passed back and forth. She hadn’t felt this relaxed in years. This was so much better than playing solitaire in front of late-night TV.

  “What do you do in your spare time back home?” he asked.

  She wasn’t admitting to solitaire and television. It sounded pathetic.

  “Read. Jog. I don’t know.”

  He shook his head.

  “Admit it. You really do work all the time. Even if it’s research on your computer at home.”

  “I plead the Fifth.”

  “No dog to walk? No boyfriend to go out with?”

  Was he f
ishing? She felt her neck warm. Maybe she was sitting too close to the fire.

  “I have a fish. A really nice one that’s the color of a Masai warrior’s hair.”

  He glanced at her but made no comment. She assumed her answer implied no boyfriend. Not that it should make any difference to him.

  “Fundamental.”

  “Correct. And you didn’t lose your legs. Pretty good.” Maddie flipped the page for him.

  “I get it. As in ‘fundamental human rights,’” he said.

  “I’m not picking a fight. It was the first word that came to mind. Your turn.”

  He set up his noose and the pen passing resumed. A breeze fluttered the leaves of the tree that had offered them shade earlier. Instinctively, she looked up to make sure it was only wind.

  “Why human-rights law and not animal rights?”

  “Why veterinary medicine instead of human medicine?”

  “Point taken.”

  “Annihilation. As in the annihilation of a species.”

  “How in the world did you get that on the first guess? You’re cheating.” He tapped the pen against the pad. Her noose was empty.

  “I’d have to be a mind reader to cheat at this. You used a word with three i’s, three n’s and two a’s, and I happened to guess those letters. You have to choose your words carefully, my dear.”

  She rested her chin in her hand as she set up the next word.

  “I must admit,” she mused, “I sometimes wish I had someone around who was counting on me. Family or close friends or kids who trust me to help them. Someone I could care for or do something for. I don’t mean clients. But then, seeing you and how much you give to the point of neglecting yourself makes me wonder if I should be happy the way things are.”

  “Dependable.” He smiled without making eye contact. “There are three e’s in there. Don’t go easy on me.”

  “Fatigue must be making me slip up,” she said. He really was a dependable guy.

  “You have too much love to give and no one but your fish to give it to on a daily basis. That’s why you’re craving someone to count on you. You could always move back to Kenya.”

  “That’s not an option.”

  “Because of work?”

  Well, there was that, especially if she ever made partner.

  “Because I can’t live around my dad.”

  “I can see how that might not be easy.”

  “Compassionate.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and licked her lips.

  “And do you always use your days off for others or do you ever do anything for yourself?” she asked as she took the pen. Their hands touched again.

  “Sometimes I come here to be alone. I might bring a book or magazine or just nap. But a little time to think without anyone around is all I need.”

  “So I suppose in some ways, we’re at the opposite extremes when it comes to our living situations.”

  “Noble.”

  He got that one quickly. Her cheeks felt hot.

  “I suppose so,” he said.

  “Deserving.” The rims of her eyes burned. She hadn’t been told she was worth it by anyone in a long time. She blinked and hoped he’d think her eyes were watery because of the smoke and heat. She set up the next word.

  “Kindhearted.” He reached out and brushed a fluttering insect from her shoulder before playing his turn.

  “Beautiful.” Maddie closed her eyes. She needed to pull back. The night, the fire, his presence... It was all too intoxicating.

  “Pippa tells me you two are planning to get married soon,” she blurted.

  Something shifted between them the second the words came out. He set down the pen, reclined and stared long and hard at the canopy of stars.

  “It has been mentioned. Discussed in general. Expected. But I haven’t actually proposed yet.”

  “She made it sound pretty definite. Her heart is set on it.”

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs as he studied the embers.

  “We should get to sleep.” He got up before she could press the issue. He pulled a few blankets from the back of the jeep and handed her one.

  “You remembered my hatred of sleeping bags.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted.

  “Jeep or broken tent?”

  “Jeep.”

  She wrapped herself and settled into the front seat, leaning her head against her arm on the door frame. It wasn’t exactly comfortable but she wasn’t about to complain. She’d live. She could see him moving the chairs back, setting his rifle within reach and laying his cover on the dirt. He stretched out his long body and tucked his hand behind his head. Her lids grew heavy as she watched his chest rise and fall, and her eyes slowly closed...

  A shriek akin to someone having their limbs pulled off had her screaming in response and leaping out of the jeep. She ran to the fire, where Haki was already on his feet. Maddie hugged her blanket and tried to catch her breath.

  “What was that? Haki, did you hear it?”

  “Yes, I heard it. You scared the life out of me, Mads. I thought something had bitten your arm off.”

  “I scared you? It sounded like someone was getting their arm bitten off!”

  He plopped back down on the ground and resumed his sleeping position.

  “That’s it? What happened to ‘I’ll keep you safe, Maddie?’”

  “That was a hyrax. Herbivore, if it makes you feel better. Some people think they’re cute.”

  “I know what a hyrax is, and they don’t sound cute. I’d forgotten about them.”

  It shrieked again.

  “Tell me it’s not going to do that all night.”

  “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

  She looked back at the jeep, then at the unzippered tent, which was essentially a giant sleeping bag. She hesitated, then spread her blanket on the ground next to Haki. He didn’t comment. She curled up on it and flipped the end over to cover herself. The few inches of invisible boundary between them was going to have to do. They were friends. It was no big deal. Besides, Pippa wasn’t the jealous type. And she had no reason to be. But then why was Maddie feeling so hyperaware? His breathing, his scent and the silhouette of his strong features against a fiery backdrop... She tried to block her senses. She reminded herself that he was her opposition. That if he had it his way, she would fail at stopping his proposal and fail at impressing both her boss and her father. That made him the enemy. Only he wasn’t, really. Did they qualify as frenemies?

  “Do you trust me?” Haki whispered as he gazed at the stars.

  “Yes.”

  “Then try to get some sleep.”

  * * *

  HAKI HAD THE campfire safely extinguished and all their supplies back in the truck before Maddie woke up. He was a light sleeper, but last night he hadn’t even come close to a catnap. For one thing, he’d had no idea she talked in her sleep. Nothing discernible, but her soft mutterings had him mesmerized and intrigued by what was going on behind those dark lashes of hers. And when she’d unknowingly rolled over and nestled against him, his chances of getting any sleep had been destroyed.

  Maddie sat up and frowned as she got her bearings. She rubbed her eyes and pushed to her knees.

  “How long have you been awake?” Her voice was husky and still laced with sleep.

  “Not long.” Last night they’d both come too close to saying things that would have had damaging consequences. His shoulders were stiff from keeping his hands safely locked behind his head all night and he stretched and rubbed them in preparation for the drive ahead.

  “Um...safe, private—”

  “Behind that bush over there. I made coffee before putting out the fire, if you want some,” he called out as she disappeared int
o the shrubbery.

  “Definitely,” she said, reappearing and picking up the jug of water they’d designated for washing up. “I’m so sorry if I overslept. I don’t even sleep in on weekends. I have no idea what came over me.”

  He handed her a metal mug of coffee.

  “No worries. We can still make good time.”

  Her eyes widened as she glanced around the campfire.

  “Where’s my notebook?”

  “Shredded by jackals.”

  “Haki.”

  “On the passenger seat. So is your pen.” And so were the words they’d exchanged last night. Dangerous words. She looked at him knowingly, then swiftly broke eye contact.

  “We should leave,” they both said simultaneously, then hurried to their seats. Haki turned the jeep northwest, toward their next stop. Coming out here for time alone was never going to be the same again.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE TWO HOURS it took to reach the next homestead were excruciatingly long. Maddie occupied herself by focusing a bit harder on the scenery, taking a few photographs with her phone camera and doing mindless things like digging out her portable battery pack to recharge her cell and readjusting the scarf on her head.

  Haki was obviously avoiding conversation as much as she was. He pointed out a few herds or vistas and she snapped shots of them, but he was otherwise reserved. She was sort of relieved. She felt a little more centered. She needed to keep her emotions detached from him. She needed to stick to facts and reality, the way lawyers did when presenting their cases. Every time she caught a glimpse of him from the corner of her eye, her resolve began to crumble. Haki acting withdrawn meant he was upset. It was like a part of his spirit had drifted off, and she was to blame. She didn’t know which part of her heart to follow—whether to protect her cousin or protect the connection and...magic...she was sure Haki was feeling, too. She’d never experienced it with anyone else. She might never experience it again. No matter what she did, she’d be hurting one of them.