Emily Pilcher and the Golden Eye (The Adventures of Emily Pilcher Book 2)

by Graham Duncan

slurring voice.

  ‘A pair of buffoons!’

  The two other men sniggered. ‘I’ve never seen a pair of wild buffoons before,’ said the man, leaning close to Mr Pilcher. The man spat a wad of the disgusting chewing tobacco from his mouth, the gobbet landing near Mr Pilchers foot.

  Mr Pilcher almost fainted from the stench of the man’s stinky breath!

  ‘You get away from here you nasty men. You’re not wanted around here,’ said Mrs Pilcher.

  ‘Keep quiet!’ said the man with smelly breath.

  ‘You’ve got something I want, an’ I ain’t goin’ anywhere till ya give it to me.’ The man squinted, his eyes, snakelike and fixed Mr and Mrs Pilcher in turn.

  ‘Where’ve you hidden those cheetah cubs?’ he demanded. ‘I’ve got a customer - wants a nice cheetah pelt to keep her warm in the winter and she’s prepared to pay ‘andsomely for it! So tell me now, where are they?’ The man stood menacingly over the pair.

  Mr Pilcher spoke up at last, ‘You’re not going to get your hands on those little cubs. They are gone, back where they should be, out there in the plains. So you take your foul, stinking breath away from here and take those horrible louts with you!’

  And with that, Mr Pilcher kicked the man in the shin. While the man hopped about in agony, Mrs Pilcher stamped on his other foot, causing him to cry out loud and hop from one leg to the other.

  ‘Come on Mum, we’ve got to warn the others!’ said Mr Pilcher. They raced quickly, through a gap between the trucks, to the radio which fortunately had not been damaged by the marauding intruders. Mrs Pilcher radioed the group out on the savannah, as Mr Pilcher kept watch.

  BANG!!!

  An elephant gun blasted the radio set to smithereens, leaving Mrs Pilcher talking into a useless receiver. The squat, round man, with piggy eyes, stood pointing the smoking rifle at Mr and Mrs Pilcher.

  ‘Don’t move! Not unless you want some of the same treatment,’ he said, with a slurring snake-like voice.

  Mr and Mrs Pilcher had no choice but to put their hands up and surrender. Their hands were tied behind their backs and they were bundled into the back of a pickup truck. The three trucks raced off as quickly as they had come, taking a frightened Mr and Mrs Pilcher with them and leaving a wrecked camp and a cloud of dust in their wake.

  - Searching -

  Arriving back at camp, the release team were shocked to find the camp in complete disarray. Tents were flattened, supplies scattered and Mr and Mrs Pilcher nowhere to be found – vehicle tracks led out of camp along a dusty trail, leading into the scrub.

  ‘We must organise a search party immediately,’ instructed Miss Yorktown.

  Dr Aruna wasted little time organising his experienced team. Before long he dispatched trucks and land rovers in all directions, to search for the missing Pilchers.

  ‘And now for my own search effort,’ Miss Yorktown thought to herself. She prised open her special crate with a huge jemmy bar exposing large pieces of yellow carbon fibre of all shapes and sizes and long lengths of black graphite. A compact but powerful looking engine followed.

  ‘I’ll have this thing knocked up in a jiffy,’ said Miss Yorktown. ‘I’ll take you with me Emily, and we’ll find your mum and dad in no time at all… Emily?’

  Miss Yorktown looked around. Emily was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Zanta, Emily’s gone!’

  ‘I will find her Miss Yorktown,’ replied Zanta. ‘You must find her parents.’ Zanta raced out of camp and scanned the horizon but there was no sign of Emily. ‘I must find her,’ vowed Zanta.

  Emily trudged on; she had been walking for hour after hour and was in a kind of daze. So much had happened recently that her head was swimming. She was tired and thirsty but carried on, determined to find her parents.

  As darkness fell, Emily began to realise what a predicament she was in. She had walked for so long that she did not really know where she was. She had no food, nothing to drink and nowhere to sleep for the night. She had veered off the dusty track leading out of camp hours ago, it was dark, and most worryingly of all, she could hear strange noises following behind her.

  The moon cast ghostly shadows all around as Emily picked up the pace, trying to get away from the scuffing noise behind.

  Emily could not help but think of all the dangerous animals that lived out here in the wilds of Africa. She hurried through the rough scrub, trying desperately not to make a sound, while going as quickly as possible. Stones and uneven ground threatened to trip her as her breathing became rapid. She had a tingling sensation down her spine and numbness in her fingertips… her fear was rising as the strange noises got closer and closer. Emily started to panic and broke into a desperate run. Sweating, her heart was pounding, her head swirled, any moment now the sound would get her…

  ‘EMILY!’

  Zanta lunged for Emily’s hand! ‘It’s me, Emily. Zanta!’

  Emily, eyes wide with fear, shock, and joy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She shook with relief as she embraced her friend, tears welling up and overcoming the pair.

  Zanta gathered dry tinder in the moonlight and built a small fire. As the flames took and orange tongues of warming fire held back the night, Zanta knelt down and produced food and a water bottle from her satchel.

  ‘You are not clever to go off into the bush alone, Emily Pilcher,’ Zanta admonished. ‘It’s not a safe place, especially at night.’

  ‘I am sorry Zanta, but I can’t just leave my parents, they, they…’ Emily cried when she thought of what had happened to her parents. ‘They have been kidnapped by the poachers,’ she continued. ‘I just know they have. I can’t leave them on their own, I must find them … they understand less about the bush than I do.’

  Zanta embraced her friend.

  ‘You can go back to camp Zanta, but I have got to carry on. I must find my parents!’

  The two girls finished eating and bedded down for the night. Zanta had brought thick blankets to cover them both and they lay side-by-side warding off the night’s chill. Overhead the stars shone brighter and more numerous than Emily had ever seen before. Like thousands of sparkling crystals, illuminating the landscape around them.

  ‘I will not leave you alone Emily, you are my friend,’ said Zanta. ‘Tomorrow we will go together to find your parents. But first let us consult my grandfather, he is an elder in a village not far from here and is very wise – he can guide us.’

  - Golden Eye -

  The following morning, Zanta and Emily extinguished what remained of the fire, packed up their things and headed off once again, this time to find Zanta’s grandfather.

  Arriving late in the morning, the two girls were led into a smoky hut, where the elders had gathered. Sitting in the middle of the hut by the embers of a small fire, was an extremely old looking man. His skin was the colour of the earth and as dry as the desert.

  ‘That is my grandfather,’ said Zanta, quietly. ‘He is a whisperer!’

  The old man had his eyes closed and was chanting imperceptible words under his breath; the elders around him hummed a melodic chant and clapped their hands slowly.

  ‘What is a whisperer?’ asked Emily.

  ‘It means he talks with animals,’ replied Zanta.

  The elders stopped their chanting as the old man opened his eyes. Deep wisdom fixed its gaze on Emily and Zanta.

  ‘Emily,’ said the old man, with an unexpectedly deep and rich voice. ‘Seek and you will find!’

  Emily looked into the dark kindly eyes.

  ‘The one with golden eyes will guide you. Look for a whirlwind from the star above and do not be afraid. Evil dwells among the acacia and holds the two that you seek.’

  ‘Zanta.’ The old man fixed his gaze on Zanta. ‘You have not been to see me for a whole month and you stand there without embracing your grandfather. Come here at once and give me a hug!’

  Zanta grinned as she embraced her grandfather; the old man smiled a huge toothy grin.

  Later that af
ternoon, Zanta and Emily left the village refreshed and rested, with food and water provisions good for five days. They headed out under the gaze of Zanta’s grandfather. The old man stood on a small mound outside the village, silhouetted against the vivid blue sky, with his arm raised to the north. He remained there until the young travellers were far away and out of sight.

  Zanta guided Emily. They skirted the edge of dense scrub and forest, avoiding the open grasslands where they would be easy prey for hungry hyenas or lions. They walked for most of the day, stopping only briefly to rest. Later, as the sun lowered in the sky, the girls headed across a small patch of open scrub when Zanta came to a dead stop.

  ‘Listen!’ she whispered.

  Emily strained to hear, ‘I don’t hear anything,’ she said. ‘What is it?’

  Just then, they both heard the unmistakable deep throaty growl of a large cat, very near by.

  Zanta carefully backtracked towards Emily. Up ahead of them a huge leopard strolled into view.

  The leopard roared at the frightened girls, threw its head in the air, turned and walked in the opposite direction …

  The leopard stopped once more and turned its head to look at the girls. The late sun gave the landscape a