The Dark of the Sun

by Wilbur Smith

  ‘I’d better go and start sorting the boys out.’

  ‘Okay, Ruffy. Issue an extra hundred rounds to each man and ten grenades. I’ll want four extra haversacks of grenades also.’ Bruce turned to Hendry and looked at him for the first time. ‘Go with the sergeant major, Hendry, and give him a hand.’

  ‘Jesus, this is going to be a ball,’ grinned Wally in anticipation. ‘With any luck I’ll get me a sackful of ears.’ He disappeared down the corridor behind Ruffy, and Bruce lay back on the seat and took off his helmet. He closed his eyes and once again he saw Boussier and his wife standing together in the truck as it rolled back down the hill, he saw the huddle of frightened women, and André standing bareheaded staring back at him with big brown gentle eyes. He groaned softly. ‘Why is it always the good ones, the harmless, the weak?’

  A tap on the door roused him and he sat up quickly.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Hello, Bruce.’ Shermaine came in with a multiple-decked metal canteen in one hand and two mugs in the other. ‘It’s lunchtime.’

  ‘Already!’ Bruce checked his watch. ‘Good Lord, it’s after one.’

  ‘Are you hungry?’

  ‘Breakfast was a century ago.’

  ‘Good,’ she said, lowered the collapsible table and began serving the food.

  ‘Smells good.’

  ‘I am a chef Cordon Bleu. My bully beef goulash is demanded by the crowned heads of Europe.’

  They ate in silence for both of them were hungry. Once they looked at each other and smiled but returned to the food.

  ‘That was good,’ sighed Bruce at last.

  ‘Coffee, Bruce?’

  ‘Please.’

  As she poured it she asked, ‘So, what happens now?’

  ‘Do you mean what happens now we are alone?’

  ‘You are forward, monsieur. I meant how do we get out of here?’

  ‘I am adopting your suggestion: borrowing General Moses’s transportation.’

  ‘You make jokes, Bruce!’

  ‘No,’ he said, and explained briefly.

  ‘It will be very dangerous, will it not? You may be hurt?’

  ‘Only the good die young.’

  ‘That is why I worry. Please do not get hurt – I am starting to think I would not like that.’ Her face was very serious and pale. Bruce crossed quickly and stooped over her, lifting her to her feet.

  ‘Shermaine, I—’

  ‘No, Bruce. Don’t talk. Don’t say anything.’ Her eyes were closed with thick black lashes interlaced, her chin lifted exposing the long smooth swell of her neck. He touched it with his lips and she made a soft noise in her throat so he could feel the skin vibrate. Her body flattened against his and her fingers closed in the hair at the back of his head.

  ‘Oh, Bruce. My Bruce, please do not get hurt. Do not let them hurt you.’

  Wanting now, urgently, his mouth hunted upwards and hers came to meet it, willing prey. Her lips were pink and not greased with make-up, they parted to the pressure of his tongue, he felt the tip of her nose cool upon his cheek and his hand moved up her back and closed round the nape of her neck, slender neck with silky down behind her ears.

  ‘Oh, Bruce—’ she said into his mouth. His other hand went down on to the proud, round, deeply divided thrust of her buttocks, he pulled her lower body against his and she gasped as she felt him – the arrogant maleness through cloth.

  ‘No,’ she gasped and tried to pull away, but he held her until she relaxed against him once more. She shook her head, ‘Non, non,’ but her mouth was open still and her tongue fluttered against his. Down came his hand from her neck and twitched her shirt tails loose from under her belt, then up again along her back, touching the deep lateral depression of her spine so that she shuddered, clinging to him. Stroking velvet skin stretched tight over rubber-hard flesh, finding the outline of her shoulder blades, tracing them upwards then back to the armpits, silky-haired armpits that maddened him with excitement, quickly past them to her breasts, small breasts with soft tips hardening to his touch.

  Now she struggled in earnest, her fists beating on his shoulders and her mouth breaking from his, and he stopped himself, dropped the hand away to encircle her waist. Holding her loosely within his arms.

  ‘That was not good, Bruce. You get naughty very quick.’ Her cheeks flamed with colour and her blue eyes had darkened to royal, her lips still wet from his, and her voice was unsteady, as unsteady as his when he answered.

  ‘I’m sorry, Shermaine. I don’t know what happened then, I did not mean to frighten you.’

  ‘You are very strong, Bruce. But you do not frighten me, only a little bit. Your eyes frighten me when they look at me but do not see.’

  You really made a hash of that one, he rebuked himself. Bruce Curry, the gentle sophisticated lover. Bruce Curry, the heavyweight, catch-as-catch-can, two-fisted rape artist.

  He felt shaky, his legs wobbly, and there was something seriously wrong with his breathing.

  ‘You do not wear a brassière,’ he said without thinking, and immediately regretted it, but she chuckled, soft and husky.

  ‘Do you think I need to, Bruce?’

  ‘No, I didn’t mean that,’ he protested quickly, remembering the saucy tilt of that small breast. He was silent then, marshalling his words, trying to control his breathing, fighting down the madness of desire.

  She studied his eyes. ‘You can see again now – perhaps I will let you kiss me.’

  ‘Please,’ he said and she came back to him.

  Gently now, Bruce me boy.

  The door of the compartment flew back with a crash and they jumped apart. Wally Hendry stood on the threshold.

  ‘Well, well, well.’ His shrewd little eyes took it all in. ‘That’s nice!’

  Shermaine was hurriedly tucking in her shirt tail and trying to smooth her hair at the same time.

  Wally grinned. ‘Nothing like it after a meal, I always say. Gets the digestion going.’

  ‘What do you want?’ snapped Bruce.

  ‘There’s no doubt what you want,’ said Wally. ‘Looks like you’re getting it too.’ He let his eyes travel up from Shermaine’s waist, slowly over her body to her face.

  Bruce stepped out into the corridor, pushing Hendry back and slammed the door.

  ‘What do you want?’ he repeated.

  ‘Ruffy wants you to check his arrangements, but I’ll tell him you’re busy. We can put the attack off until tomorrow night if you like.’

  Bruce scowled at him. ‘Tell him I’ll be with him in two minutes.’

  Wally leaned against the door. ‘Okay, I’ll tell him.’

  ‘What are you waiting for?’

  ‘Nothing, just nothing,’ grinned Wally.

  ‘Well, bugger off then,’ snarled Bruce.

  ‘Okay, okay, don’t get your knickers in a knot, Bucko.’

  He sauntered off down the corridor.

  Shermaine was standing where Bruce had left her, but with her eyes bright with tears of anger.

  ‘He is a pig, that one. A filthy, filthy pig.’

  ‘He’s not worth worrying about.’ Bruce tried to take her in his arms again, but she shrugged him off.

  ‘I hate him. He makes everything seem so cheap, so dirty.’

  ‘Nothing between you and I could be cheap and dirty,’ said Bruce, and instantly her fury abated.

  ‘I know, my Bruce. But he can make it seem that way.’ They kissed gently.

  ‘I must go. They want me.’ For a second she clung to him.

  ‘Be careful. Promise me you’ll be careful.’

  ‘I promise,’ said Bruce and she let him go.

  – 16 –

  They left before dark, but the clouds had come up during the afternoon and now they hung low over the forest, trapping the heat beneath them.

  Bruce led, with Ruffy in the middle of the line and Hendry in the rear.

  By the time they reached the level crossing the night was on them and it had started to rain, so
ft fat drops weeping like a woman exhausted with grief, warm rain in the darkness. And the darkness was complete. Once Bruce touched the top of his nose with his open palm, but he could not see his hand.

  He used a staff to keep contact with the steel rail that ran beside him, tapping along it like a blind man, and at each step the gravel of the embankment crunched beneath his feet. The hand of the man behind him was on his shoulder, and he could sense the presence of the others that followed him like the body of a serpent, could hear the crunch of their steps and the muted squeak and rattle of their equipment. A man’s voice was raised in protest and immediately quenched by Ruffy’s deep rumble.

  They crossed the road and the gradient changed beneath Bruce’s feet so that he had to lean forward against it. They were starting up the Lufira hills.

  I will rest them at the top, he thought, and from there we will be able to see the lights of the town.

  The rain stopped abruptly, and the quietness after it was surprising. Now he could distinctly hear the breathing of the man behind him above the small sounds of their advance, and in the forest nearby a tree frog clinked as though steel pellets were being dropped into a crystal glass. It was a sound of great purity and beauty.

  All Bruce’s senses were enhanced to compensate for his lack of sight; his hearing; his sense of smell, so that he could catch the over-sweet perfume of a jungle-flower and the heaviness of decaying wet vegetation; his sense of touch, so that he could feel the raindrops on his face and the texture of his clothing against his body; then the other animal sense of danger told him with sickening, stomach-tripping certainty that there was something ahead of him in the darkness.

  He stopped, and the man following him bumped into him throwing him off balance. All along the line there was a ripple of confusion and then silence. They all waited.

  Bruce strained his hearing, half crouched with his rifle held ready. There was something there, he could almost feel it.

  Please God, let them not have a machine-gun set up here, he thought; they could cut us into a shambles.

  He turned cautiously and felt for the head of the man behind him, found it and drew it towards him until his mouth was an inch from the ear.

  ‘Lie down very quietly. Tell the one behind you that he may pass it back.’

  Bruce waited poised, listening and trying to see ahead into the utter blackness. He felt a gentle tap on his ankle from the gendarme at his feet. They were all down.

  ‘All right, let’s go take a look.’ Bruce detached one of the grenades from his webbing belt. He drew the pin and dropped it into the breast pocket of his jacket. Then feeling for the crossties of the rails with each foot he started forward. Ten paces and he stopped again. Then he heard it, the tiny click of two pebbles just ahead of him. His throat closed so he could not breathe and his stomach was very heavy.

  I’m right on top of them. My God, if they open up now—

  Inch by inch he drew back the hand that held the grenade.

  I’ll have to lob short and get down fast. Five-second fuse – too long, they’ll hear it and start shooting.

  His hand was right back, he bent his legs and sank slowly on to his knees.

  Here we go, he thought, and at that instant sheet lightning fluttered across the sky and Bruce could see. The hills were outlined black below the pale grey belly of the clouds, and the steel rails glinted in the sudden light. The forest was dark and high at each hand, and – a leopard, a big golden and black leopard, stood facing Bruce. In that brief second they stared at each other and then the night closed down again.

  The leopard coughed explosively in the darkness, and Bruce tried desperately to bring his rifle up, but it was in his left hand and his other arm was held back ready to throw.

  This time for sure, he thought, this time they lower the boom on you.

  It was with a feeling of disbelief that he heard the leopard crash sideways into the undergrowth, and the scrambling rush of its run dwindle into the bush.

  He subsided on to his backside, with the primed grenade in his hand, the hysterical laughter of relief coming up into his throat.

  ‘You okay, boss?’ Ruffy’s voice lifted anxiously.

  ‘It was a leopard,’ answered Bruce, and was surprised at the squeakiness of his own voice.

  There was a buzz of voices from the gendarmes and a rattle and clatter as they started to stand up. Someone laughed.

  ‘That’s enough noise,’ snapped Bruce and climbed to his feet; he found the pin in his pocket and fitted it back into the grenade. He groped his way back, picked up the staff from where he had dropped it, and took his position at the head of the column again.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said.

  His mouth was dry, his breathing too quick and he could feel the heat beneath the skin of his cheeks from the shock of the leopard.

  I truly squirted myself full of adrenalin that time, Bruce grinned precariously in the dark, I’m as windy as hell. And before tonight is over I shall find fear again.

  They moved on up the incline of the hills, a serpent of twenty-six men, and the tension was in all of them. Bruce could hear it in the footsteps behind him, feel it in the grip of the hand upon his shoulder and catch it in the occasional whiffs of body smell that came forward to him, the smell of nervous sweat like acid on metal.

  Ahead of them the clouds that had crouched low upon the hills lifted slowly, and Bruce could see the silhouette of the crests. It was no longer utterly dark for there was a glow on the belly of the clouds now. A faint orange glow of reflected light that grew in strength, then faded and grew again. It puzzled Bruce for a while, and thinking about it gave his nerves a chance to settle. He plodded steadily on watching the fluctuations of the light. The ground tilted more sharply upwards beneath his feet and he leaned forward against it, slogging up the last half mile to the pass between the peaks, and at last came out on the top.

  ‘Good God,’ Bruce spoke aloud, for from here he could see the reason for that glow on the clouds. They were burning Port Reprieve. The flames were well established in the buildings along the wharf, and as Bruce watched one of the roofs collapsed slowly in upon itself in a storm of sparks leaving the walls naked and erect, the wooden sills of the windows burning fiercely. The railway buildings were also on fire, and there was fire in the residential area beyond the Union Minière offices and the hotel. Quickly Bruce looked towards St Augustine’s. It was dark, no flames there, no light even, and he felt a small lift of relief.

  ‘Perhaps they have overlooked it, perhaps they’re too busy looting,’ and as he looked back at Port Reprieve, his mouth hardened. ‘The senseless wanton bastards!’ His anger started as he watched the meaningless destruction of the town.

  ‘What can they possibly hope to gain by this?’ There were new fires nearer the hotel. Bruce turned to the man behind him.

  ‘We will rest here, but there will be no smoking and no talking.’

  He heard the order passed back along the line and the careful sounds of equipment being lowered and men settling gratefully down upon the gravel embankment. Bruce unslung the case that contained his binoculars. He focused them on the burning town.

  It was bright with the light of fires and through the glasses he could almost discern the features of the men in the streets. They moved in packs, heavily armed and restless. Many carried bottles and already the gait of some of them was unsteady. Bruce tried to estimate their numbers but it was impossible, men kept disappearing into buildings and reappearing, groups met and mingled and dispersed.

  He dropped his glasses on to his chest to rest his eyes, and heard movement beside him in the dark. He glanced sideways. It was Ruffy, his bulk exaggerated by the load he carried; his rifle across one shoulder, on the other a full case of ammunition, and round his neck half a dozen haversacks full of grenades.

  ‘Looks like they’re having fun, hey, boss?’

  ‘Fifth of November,’ agreed Bruce. ‘Aren’t you going to take a breather?’

  ‘Why n
ot?’ Ruffy set down the ammunition case and lowered his great backside on to it. ‘Can you see any of those folks we left behind?’ he asked.

  Bruce lifted the glasses again and searched the area beyond the station buildings. It was darker there but he made out the square shape of the truck standing among the moving shadows.

  ‘The truck’s still there,’ he murmured, ‘but I can’t see—’

  At that moment the thatched roof of one of the houses exploded upwards in a column of flame, lighting the railway yard, and the truck stood out sharply.

  ‘Yes,’ said Bruce, ‘I can see them now.’ They were littered untidily across the yard, still lying where they had died. Small and fragile, unwanted as broken toys.

  ‘Dead?’ asked Ruffy.

  ‘Dead,’ confirmed Bruce.

  ‘The women?’

  ‘It’s hard to tell.’ Bruce strained his eyes. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘No.’ Ruffy’s voice was soft and very deep. ‘They wouldn’t waste the women. I’d guess they’ve got them up at the hotel, taking it in turn to give them the business. Four women only – they won’t last till morning. Those bastards down there could shag an elephant to death.’ He spat thoughtfully into the gravel at his feet. ‘What you going to do, boss?’

  Bruce did not answer for a minute; he swung the glasses slowly back across the town. The field gun was still standing where he had last seen it, its barrel pointing accusingly up towards him. The transports were parked before the Union Minière offices; he could see the brilliant yellow and red paint and the Shell sign on the tanker. I hope it’s full, Bruce thought, we’ll need plenty of gasoline to get us back to Elisabethville.

  ‘Ruffy, you’d better tell your boys to keep their bullets away from that tanker, otherwise it’ll be a long walk home.’

  ‘I’ll tell them,’ grunted Ruffy. ‘But you know these mad Arabs – once they start shooting they don’t stop till they’re out of bullets, and they not too fussy where those bullets go.’

  ‘We’ll split into two groups when we get to the bottom of the hill. You and I will take our lot through the edge of the swamp and cross to the far side of the town. Tell Lieutenant Hendry to come here.’ Bruce waited until Wally came forward to join them, and when the three of them crouched together he went on.