Kalahari

by Jessica Khoury

  This whole time, I stayed crouched on the tracks, staring at an ant that was traversing what, to him, was the Grand Canyon. I let them talk back and forth, unable to bear breaking the reality to them.

  “Sarah,” said Sam, kneeling beside me. “What’s wrong?”

  The others fell silent and looked at me. I sighed and stood up.

  “We can’t follow the road,” I said. “We just needed to find it in order to get our bearings. We have to walk to Ghansi.”

  There was loud silence filled by chirping crickets and birds.

  Then they erupted.

  “What do you mean, we can’t follow the road?”

  “My feet are covered in blisters!”

  “More walking?”

  “No! I’m sitting here until the next bus comes by.”

  I waited in silence until their protests subsided. When they did, I pointed at the sky.

  “They’ll be combing the road for us,” I said. “If they’re smart, they’ll check every vehicle that goes through this area. This road is the most dangerous place we could be. Now”—I bent down again and drew a few quick lines in the sand—“if we cross here and make a wide circle north, we can approach Ghansi from the west. We have to get there without Corpus knowing, and it’ll be hard to escape notice in a town that size.”

  “We can send in Canada,” said Joey. “She’ll blend in.”

  Avani looked as if she were about to punch him, then she paused. “Actually,” she said, “that’s not a bad idea.”

  Joey beamed at her.

  “We’ll worry about that when we get there,” I said. “But we’re still a few days out. Now, we’re behind schedule as it is, and Matthieu should land at Camp Acacia in a few days. He’ll notice something’s wrong and alert someone.” If Corpus didn’t find him first. I didn’t want to think about that possibility. Just how desperate were they to find us? They’d already proven they were capable of murder and sacrificing their own people to clean up their mess, but would they go so far as to eliminate every person who wandered into the area, just in case they’d met and talked to the six of us? Our continued survival put the whole population of central Botswana at risk if Corpus thought we might tell what we’d seen. Then again, if we were caught, who would tell everyone about the Metalcium outbreak? Either way, lives were at stake.

  Putting that unsettling thought aside, I added, “Even if Matthieu does alert someone that we’re missing, there’s just as much chance of Corpus finding us as a search team. We can’t sit around waiting to be rescued.”

  No one looked happy about it, but they nodded agreement. I felt relieved; I’d expected more of a fight. That relief shattered as my wrist began to itch again. I stared at it, throat dry, willing myself not to scratch.

  “Good,” I said, my voice hoarse. “So first thing, we need to get away from this road. . . .”

  My voice died as a new sound cut the air: an unmistakable chop chop chop.

  “Chopper,” I said. “Hide.”

  We darted across the road and into the bush without looking back. I frantically searched for holes we could hide in like the last time, my heart thumping like a caged animal’s. The chopper was coming from the south, following the road just as I’d predicted.

  I began to panic as my search turned up no place suitable for cover. I called everyone together, keeping one eye on the helicopter. It was moving slowly, taking its time, the bulbous glass windshield like some giant all-seeing eye.

  “If they see us, split up,” I told everyone. “Stay low, stay in the thick brush, and follow our tracks back east, the way we came. We’ll meet up at the baobab tree, got it?”

  “I can’t find my way back,” said Miranda, her eyes large and serious.

  “Then stay with Kase. Together your chances are better. That goes for all of us—stick with someone.”

  “Buddy system!” said Joey.

  The chopper was almost on us. There was no more time to plan; I had to hope we wouldn’t be seen. I wasn’t at all confident we’d find one another again if we split up now, even though it shouldn’t be hard to follow the only trail of six human footprints for miles around. What worried me more was that Corpus would catch up to one of us.

  “Get down!” Sam shouted.

  We rolled under the bushes, lying flat in the tall grass. I was very careful to keep a healthy distance between me and anyone else—I didn’t want to accidentally bump into anyone. Our chances are good, I lied to myself. The cover might be thin, but animals managed to disappear into it, didn’t they?

  “Keep still,” I said, as the helicopter began prowling over the stretch of road we’d just crossed. Its round shadow swept over us, making me shudder. It was close enough now that I could see the pilot, his face hidden by his helmet, and Abramo sitting beside him. He’d found a new crew; there were several men behind him. The aircraft looked capable of carrying half a dozen people at least.

  The chopper slowed above the road and hovered so low that it whipped up a great funnel of sand. My heart stopped. Why were they stopping? What had they seen? Not our tracks—they’d destroyed them by stirring up the sand. Unless they had binoculars or something and had seen them from far off, but that would take a masterfully sharp eye.

  Though every muscle in my body was on the verge of bolting, I forced myself to remain still, even holding my breath. My arm was itching terribly now, my skin crawling as if covered with scuttling spiders.

  Don’t scratch, Dr. Monaghan’s delirious voice whispered through my thoughts.

  My heart plummeted and I stared at my skin. It’s my imagination. It’s the grass rubbing against it, or it’s just the sand. . . .

  How quickly did Metalcium take effect? Dr. Monaghan had said that it could kill you within days, but how long did it take to actually set in?

  A cry interrupted my grinding inner panic. I looked around. The chopper was slowly gliding away from the road—and toward our hiding spot. It was Avani who’d cried out, and Joey was shushing her.

  Had they seen us? If they’d seen us, we had to run now. If they hadn’t, we still had a chance. I was torn between staying and bolting, unsure which was more likely to get us killed.

  “Oh, no,” Sam said. “Miranda! Kase!”

  They had begun to creep out from under their bush, apparently going to make a run for it. Sam urged them again to stop, and then he looked at me for support.

  I stared at him with my mouth gaping. I didn’t know what to do or what to say. Maybe they should run.

  The chopper’s wind rattled the grass and vegetation, blowing sand into my eyes. I winced and rubbed it away, and when I opened them, I saw that Kase and Miranda had dashed out of cover and were running north. Avani and Joey went next, heading south, and then Sam was in front of me, holding out a hand.

  “Let’s go!” he said. “They’re confused about who to chase—now’s our chance!”

  I almost took his hand. Almost. At the last moment I snatched it back, horrified at how close I’d come to infecting him.

  “Go!” I yelled. “I’m right behind you!”

  But he waited until I was on my feet before sprinting away. The chopper was roving in a wide circle above us, perhaps trying to keep an eye on all three pairs, but we were spreading too far apart. They had to choose.

  They went after Sam and me.

  We wove back and forth, sticking to the most overgrown thickets in an attempt to lose them. It was no good. Every time we thought we’d reached sufficient cover, they flushed us out again. It made me think of the old hunting techniques poachers once used to drive buffalo out here, chasing them with airplanes until they ran into the veterinary fence that stretched like a belt across the whole of Botswana; then the poachers would pick off the trapped animals at their leisure.

  Were they trying to exhaust us, then grab us? What was the point of chasing us if they w
eren’t going to shoot?

  As we ran, I had to split my attention between the chopper and Sam—specifically, on not accidentally touching him. I kept a safe ten yards between us, and he was so focused on watching where he was going that he didn’t have a chance to ask me why.

  Suddenly we broke out of the thick brush we’d been dodging through and onto a wide flatland of grass and low thickets. There was zero cover. We turned around, intending to dart back into the tall bushes, but at that moment the side door of the helicopter slid open and a man crouched in the opening began firing at us with an automatic rifle so loud I could hear it even over the chopper’s engine. He was spraying the bushes with bullets in a clear indication that he meant to drive us into the open.

  We had no choice but to keep going. It was useless, really. We couldn’t outrun a helicopter. I realized they must have seen this flat area long before we did, and had been driving us toward us, herding us from the air. On the open grassland, we made for much easier targets.

  “We have to split up!” I yelled to Sam.

  He nodded but didn’t look happy about it.

  “Meet you at the baobab!” I called, and I veered to the left. Sam went right. All too quickly, he was swallowed up by the vast savanna, out of sight, and I was alone.

  TWENTY-THREE

  The helicopter hesitated once we split, then turned to follow me. I wondered if that was deliberate, and if Abramo had recognized me from the lab.

  The chopper sped up and passed me, then slowed and turned to face me head on, intending to cut me off. I skidded to a stop and began to go back, but when I turned around, already sprinting, I halted so sharply that I fell forward onto my knees.

  Three adult giraffes, each of them as silver as an American quarter, had broken out of the bushes and were running across the savanna, their long legs flashing in the sun. I was held enthralled for a moment, horrified and awed by the majestic creatures. The smallest of the three still retained some of its original coat around its legs, so that it looked as if someone had held it by the hooves and dipped it in a vat of mercury. They ran with their tails thrown over their haunches and their ears laid flat, as if they were running from predators, but I saw no lions or leopards chasing them. Likely they were trying to outrun the Metalcium itself, unable to comprehend what was happening to them.

  I looked back at the helicopter, which had ceased firing at me. Abramo seemed to be focused on the giraffes now, perhaps trying to decide which was the greater threat—me or the infected animals. In the long run, it would be me—after all, I knew his name, his employer’s name, and I had seen the lab—but on the other hand, the giraffes were too near Ghansi and its outlying villages to escape notice for long.

  Go after them, I thought. They’re the ones you want.

  At first, I was certain the chopper would bear down on me anyway, but the giraffes were getting farther and farther away; already I’d lost all sight of them save for their heads above the trees in the distance.

  Slowly, reluctantly, the helicopter turned and beat its way after the herd.

  Panting, I slumped over with relief. After a moment, I lifted my head and called for Sam but heard no response.

  I was desperately thirsty. It would take most of the night to hike back to the baobab and the meager supply of water, but it was the only choice I had. As evening approached, the chances of a car passing by shrank to practically nothing, so there was little point of waiting by the road. Anyway, it was almost certain that the chopper would return after the men destroyed the giraffes. I wondered what they would do—shoot them and move on? What happened to Metalcium when its host was killed? I could only hope they’d burn the remains; no carcass in the Kalahari stayed unspoiled. Maybe some animals would smell that something was wrong with the giraffes and leave them alone, but many others would try to take a bite anyway.

  I dragged myself to my feet and began trekking east. The noise of the chopper had faded away, leaving the bush to its gentle symphony of birdsong and crickets. I walked quickly, wanting to disappear before the pursuers could return, but try as I might, I couldn’t force my legs into a run. I was spent, dehydrated, hungry, and alone. In the quiet solitude, I began to fixate on my itching arms and back and the skin behind my ears. I knotted my fingers into fists so tight that my palms ached, but I held them there to keep from falling into a fit of furious scratching. The more I tried to ignore the itch, the more it spread, until simply not scratching drained my willpower as effectively as a hole punctured in an inflatable pool. How long could I hold out?

  I needed to distract myself. I thought of my missing companions, trying to guess what they might be doing right now. I found I missed Joey’s ceaseless chatter, Avani’s matter-of-fact stream of information, and even Miranda’s complaints. Never had the wilderness seemed so quiet or so lonely. For the first time in my life, the silence and peace I’d prized felt empty, as if something were missing.

  I’d never made attachments to anyone, because I knew that sooner or later we’d have to say good-bye, but I suspected that if somehow we lived through this and they all went home, I’d miss them. More than I’d allowed myself to miss anyone in years, not since that school in Bangladesh. All of my carefully constructed defenses had been eroded and without meaning to, I had made four friends . . . and one relationship that might even be more than that.

  I stopped myself there. I wouldn’t think about Sam. I couldn’t bear it. If I was infected with Metalcium, it wouldn’t matter how many friends I had.

  I walked in a daze, my pace slowing once I was several miles east of the road. I’d stopped once, to scout the sandy tracks. I found Kase and Miranda’s prints heading east, and Sam’s a short distance from those. I had to hope that Joey and Avani had crossed farther south. Surely with the sun setting on the western horizon, they’d be able to figure out that all they had to do was follow their shadows straight east. After the sun set, Avani ought to be able to keep them on the right track if she knew anything about the constellations in the Southern Hemisphere. Kase, Miranda, and Sam I wasn’t sure about. If they got off track in the night, they could get lost for good. And even if they did keep their bearings, it would be so easy to pass the baobab in the middle of the night and never see it at all.

  I followed Sam’s tracks for as long as I could, and when the light faded, I stopped. I wasn’t sure that even I could find my way back in the dark. When I had Sam, we could find the baobab. If anyone was missing . . . well, we would just have to search for them. It would be easy to continue to Ghansi and send back an official search party, but by that time, Corpus may well have found them first. I could imagine spending days out here just trying to find everyone, which made me feel sick. I didn’t have that kind of time. Not anymore.

  Do you ever wish you could pull a moment out of time? When Sam had asked the question, I thought I’d understood.

  I hadn’t then, but I did now. I thought of all the moments I’d have saved, moments that, even though I’d lived them, oddly felt as if I’d missed them. As if I hadn’t taken the time then to cherish how sweet they were, and now they were lost forever.

  I’ll never get to see the pyramids with Sam. This thought, more than any of the others, left me more devastated than I could have imagined. I’d never been particularly interested in seeing the pyramids, but now that it was impossible, it seemed the most important thing in the world. How many places had I taken for granted, thinking I had my whole life to see them? How could I have been so shortsighted?

  I plodded on, my feet dragging in the sand. My lips were chapped and sore. I began to fantasize deliriously about every drink I’d ever had, from chocolate milk to guava juice. I spent an inordinate amount of time trying to remember the flavor of each one, the sensation of cool wet liquid splashing over my teeth and tongue.

  Night fell, but I kept walking. My body and mind had disconnected, functioning now on separate planes. The small section of
my brain that had retained its sanity knew I should stop, that I had lost Sam’s tracks and was wandering aimlessly through the bush, but it might as well have been sending signals to the moon for all the effect it had.

  The only message that was circulating through me with any degree of success was don’t scratch.

  It was becoming an increasingly difficult command to follow.

  My body was on fire. I was being bitten by a thousand invisible ants, and it took every ounce of willpower I had not to scratch till I bled.

  I’d given up hoping that the bush baby had been a mistake, that I wasn’t infected. Now hope was lost altogether and Death was breathing down my neck.

  I don’t remember falling down or sleeping, but when I opened my eyes, it was dawn. I didn’t know where I was or why I was lying with my face half-planted in the sand. Though it took a few moments, my thoughts did clear, and they were sharper than they had been during my hellish hike the night before.

  As soon as my memory hit me, sliding into my skull like a brick, I sat up and immediately began inspecting my hands and arms. There was no sign of Metalcium yet, and the itching seemed to have subsided a little, though my wrists and elbows still burned. My nose itched, too, but I didn’t dare to even rub it. Eyes watering from the effort of keeping my hands at my sides, I took stock of my position.

  It was a stretch of Kalahari bush much like any other. Golden grass bent as if bowing to the rising sun, acacias with their bristling thorn, the white trunks of shepherd’s trees rising above everything else, and . . . silence.

  Silence.

  I tried to remember what that meant. I’d heard it before, just days ago. . . .

  The lion.

  Or some sort of Metalcium-infected creature, anyway. It was morning; there ought to have been a chorus of birds rattling the savanna. Instead, only the hollow wind prowled through the grass like a ghostly predator, ruffling the backs of the thornbushes.

  I heard a rustle off to my left and ducked behind a sickle bush.