Shoot the Bastards Page 9

She sat up and nodded. “I’m okay. Yes, I’m okay.”

  * * *

  There was no sign of Johannes the next morning at the brief predawn breakfast. And, as they approached the Land Rovers, Crys saw that Nonga was behind the wheel of Johannes’s vehicle.

  She put her hand on Bongani’s arm as he was climbing into his. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Is Johannes really sick?”

  He shook his head and climbed into the driver’s seat. “He has a bit of fever and doesn’t want to make the others sick,” he mumbled, not looking at her.

  Crys wasn’t convinced. She’d only known Johannes a couple of days, but she didn’t think he’d miss the drive unless he was really ill.

  When they returned to camp before lunch, Crys decided to see for herself how he was feeling. Although it was already quite hot, he was sitting in a canvas chair inside his tent wearing a fleece. He was shivering.

  She put her hands on her hips and stared at him. “Malaria?”

  He nodded. “I’ve…I’ve taken some Coartem. We always keep them with us, in case. I’ll be…I’ll be fine after a day or so.” He seemed to be finding it difficult to concentrate.

  “I hope you are. Why did Bongani say you had flu, though?”

  “I didn’t want to worry the tourists. People…who’ve not lived in Africa…don’t understand. Look, I think…I think…I’d better lie down. It’ll break pretty soon, I’m sure. I’ve had it before. I’ll be better by…by dinner, I reckon.”

  He stood up so shakily, Crys stepped forward to take his arm. He let her lead him to his stretcher, where she eased him down and pulled the blanket over him. He closed his eyes without another word, and immediately fell into a shivering, fitful sleep.

  After watching him for a moment, she went to find Bongani.

  “We have to get Johannes back to Tshukudu,” she said. “He’s very sick.”

  Bongani just looked at her.

  “He’s got malaria, you know.”

  Bongani nodded. “I know. Doesn’t he have the pills?”

  Maybe that was how it worked in this part of the world: if you got sick you took the pills, and you got better. Or you didn’t…

  But she couldn’t accept it.

  “Can we contact Anton?”

  Bongani shook his head. “We’re in the Letaba River valley. We’d have to go up into the hills. There we could get a signal from Giyani and make a call. But that’s quite far. And I shouldn’t leave the guests.”

  “Don’t you have a satellite phone or something, for emergencies?”

  He shook his head again. His face showed concern, but he didn’t seem to want to do anything about the situation.

  Crys knew it wasn’t really her problem, but she was worried. Johannes was desperately sick. They shouldn’t just leave him like this.

  After lunch she went back to see how he was doing. There was an untouched plate of food next to his bed. He was shaking now, and she could see he was drenched in sweat.

  “How are you doing, Johannes?” She put out her hand and touched his shoulder.

  At first, she thought he hadn’t heard her, but then he opened his eyes and looked at her. The whites seemed slightly discolored. But she couldn’t be certain in the dimness of the tent.

  “Who are you?” he muttered. “C-c-call M-Marissa.” He turned his head away. It seemed to be a huge effort. “G-go away. Just call M-M-Marissa.”

  There was no one called Marissa at the camp, so she asked him who he meant, but he didn’t reply. The short speech seemed to have sapped all his strength.

  As Crys left the tent, Bongani was walking toward her.

  “He’s delirious,” she told him. “Do you know someone called Marissa?”

  “Marissa? He used to have a girlfriend called that. She was a nurse.”

  “We’ve got to get him to a hospital, Bongani. I’m scared he’ll develop cerebral malaria if we don’t act quickly.”

  She thought he was going to argue—again giving her some excuse why they shouldn’t do anything. But after a moment, he nodded, standing up a little straighter.

  “Okay, Nonga will take him to Tshukudu in the bakkie. Then Mr. Malan can decide what to do. But then we have only one driver for the game vehicles. Jacob could drive the other one, but…”

  “Look, I can drive the second vehicle,” Crys said, brushing aside the obstacles. Johannes needed medical attention. “I’ve driven in worse conditions than this. Dealing with snow and ice at home every winter is much more challenging than a little sand.”

  * * *

  By the time Nonga had brought the pickup, Johannes seemed to have improved enough to walk to the vehicle—with Bongani and Nonga each supporting an arm. He made no objection other than another request for someone to fetch Marissa. They laid him on the bench seat in the back.

  “Nonga will call Tshukudu about an hour before he gets there,” Bongani said. “They can send a helicopter from Phalaborwa if he’s really bad.”

  “He is really bad, Bongani.”

  Bongani looked away.

  Some of the guests were upset about Johannes leaving and Crys taking over one of the vehicles. She expected Bongani to explain, but he simply promised that Nonga would be back the next day. It was clear that mention of malaria was taboo.

  The afternoon game drive went well. Crys handled the vehicle easily—as she knew she would. But she was a bit nervous when they got close to the elephants again, unsure whether she’d know if and when to speed away. What had been exciting when Johannes was driving was scary when she was the one responsible for four guests. But she followed Bongani’s lead, and all was well.

  As they bumped back to camp across the dried grass, negotiating the patches of scrubby bushes, Crys thought that this would make a great story for the newspaper—game guide for a day.

  After dinner, with the guests chatting about all they’d seen and not missing Johannes at all, Bongani called Crys aside. He led her outside the reddish ring of firelight.

  “Crys, I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice, “but I have to go away from camp tonight. There’s a memorial for my cousin. I should’ve been there all day today, but, of course, I couldn’t leave earlier…I must at least be there for a while tonight. To pay my respects. Will you be okay with the guests?”

  Crys didn’t feel at all comfortable with the idea. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I’m not happy about it. What if one of the guests gets into trouble?”

  “They’ll all be asleep soon.”

  “I don’t think you should go. I don’t want to be responsible if something goes wrong.”

  “Please, Crys. It’s very important for me. He and I were very close.”

  “Where is it? How long would you be gone?”

  “His village is about an hour and a half from here.”

  “An hour and a half!” That meant three hours there and back, plus the time Bongani would spend paying his respects; he’d be away all night. She didn’t like it one bit—the group seemed to be losing its leaders rather too quickly. And she knew nothing of what could go wrong in the African bush.

  She shook her head, but realized he was going, whether she liked it or not.

  “I would really prefer you didn’t go. But…”

  “I’ll be back before six for the morning game drive. Nonga will be back before lunch, too, so you can go back to being a tourist.” He hesitated. “Crys, thank you for helping us out…helping me out.” It might have been the shadows, but his face displayed a strange tension that made her wonder if something else was going on.

  She nodded again, and then he was gone.

  Chapter 10

  Crys woke up with a jerk, her heart thumping in her chest. For a moment she was confused, wondering what had roused her. Had it been a nightmare? Then she realized it was a voice outside the tent.

  “
Crys. Crys. Wake up!” The tone was low, urgent.

  It took another few seconds before her mind finally caught up and she recognized Bongani’s voice.

  “Crys. Wake up!”

  She fumbled for her flashlight on the floor next to her sleeping bag and turned it on.

  “Crys. Are you awake?” Bongani rasped.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked, sitting up. “It’s the middle of the night.”

  Was one of the guests sick?

  “Get dressed,” he whispered. “Quickly. There’s been a plane crash.”

  That made no sense to her. “A plane crash?” She had to be dreaming. There wasn’t an airstrip anywhere near the camp, was there? “A plane crash?” she repeated.

  “Yes. I heard it when I was driving back from my cousin’s. It crashed on an old landing strip about three miles from here. I think it…I think it hit an elephant.”

  Crys gasped. “Hit an elephant?” A plane crashing into an elephant? This was becoming ever more bizarre.

  “Get dressed. Please. I need someone to come with me. Someone who can drive. I watched you today. You did a great job.” Bongani sounded desperate. She could see his outline faintly on the other side of the tent wall. “I’ll fetch the rifle. I may need to shoot it.”

  “Shoot an elephant?” Crys shook her head, trying hard to get her mind around what was happening.

  “I don’t think it’s dead. The noise was terrible.”

  She wriggled out of the sleeping bag, dressed quickly, and started to think what they might need. “Get some spotlights and a first-aid kit,” she said through the canvas, matching her tone to his—they didn’t want to wake the guests. “Someone may be hurt. And get a couple of bottles of water. There should still be some hot water in the thermos. And grab the instant coffee.”

  As she left the tent, she picked up her sleeping bag. If anyone was in shock, they might need it to warm them.

  Outside, she hurried over to the dining area. Bongani was there, loading the stuff into a cardboard box. He had Johannes’s Winchester 70 rifle slung over his shoulder.

  “The first-aid kit and lights are in the Land Rover,” he whispered. “I left it a bit down the track, so I didn’t wake the guests.”

  Crys nodded, beginning to wake up properly. Dealing with panicked tourists was the last thing they needed. Then she paused for a moment. Actually, she was also a tourist. When had that changed?

  She started to analyze what had occurred. Something must have gone wrong with the plane. No one in their right mind would try to land in the bush at night, even if it was a full moon. She looked up and saw that in fact it was at least a couple of days until full moon. She glanced at her watch. It was near three in the morning. Why were they flying at that time of night anyway?

  She looked around for Bongani, but he was already on his way to the Land Rover. She started to follow him.

  The only thing that made sense was that the plane was involved in something illegal. She’d read that a lot of drugs were smuggled into the States from Central America on small planes that flew in so low they were undetectable by radar, dropped their cargo, then left again, still undetected. Those pilots were willing to take the risk of landing at night on unlit dirt strips.

  She wondered if something like that was happening here. Maybe they were smuggling ivory…or rhino horn. Or someone was entering or leaving the country illegally.

  Whatever it was, she knew she needed to find out, particularly if rhino horn was involved. This might be exactly the lead she’d been looking for.

  But as she reached the Land Rover, another question popped into her mind: why was Bongani coming back from his cousin’s village so early? He’d said he’d be back just before six. She’d have to ask him when she had a chance.

  The Land Rover wasn’t new, but the engine had been well looked after. The body, on the other hand, was bashed all over from bumping into trees and bushes as various drivers chased down game. Bongani started the engine before Crys had even closed her door, reversed off the road, and swung it back in the direction he’d come from.

  “It took me half an hour to get here from the strip. It’s about three miles. The road’s pretty bad. Some deep sand here and there. I was worried I’d get stuck.” He paused. “Use the spotlight and look out for ellies. They’re hard to see, even in a good light. At night everything is gray like them.”

  Crys nodded and plugged in one of the spotlights, her pulse quick, as adrenalin coursed through her body. The thought of hitting an elephant really frightened her. She’d seen YouTube clips of them flipping over a vehicle with no trouble.

  As they lurched through the night, she began to worry about what might be ahead of them. If someone had been hurt in the plane—which was highly likely, given what Bongani had said—it would take hours for an ambulance to arrive from Phalaborwa or Giyani. But as they had no way of notifying a hospital in any case, they’d have to drive the injured there themselves.

  They bumped toward the crash site, both thrown around the vehicle, and Bongani wrestling with the steering wheel, shifting into low-range gear when they hit soft sand. It was going to be a slow three miles.

  And then they heard it. A terrifying sound—part trumpeting, part an anguished cry. Bongani slammed the brakes, bringing the Land Rover to a stop so they could listen. Crys shivered. The anti-poaching trip had been scary, but this was something else. She was much more scared now. An elephant could weigh six tons. Much more than the Land Rover. And there was likely to be a herd of them ahead. A herd of angry elephants. Her stomach tightened, and she could feel her heart beating faster.

  She wondered if it was smart to go on? What if the elephants charged? What if they wanted revenge for their injured friend? She and Bongani would be dead in seconds, flattened into the sand.

  She tightened her grip on the spotlight.

  She looked over at Bongani; the moonlight was bright enough to show that he was just as worried.

  “Maybe we should go for help; or at least wait until it’s light,” she said. “Can we get hold of the park rangers?”

  Bongani shook his head. “Even if we could, it would be several hours before they could get here. We’ve got to go and see what’s happening. Maybe the pilot is injured. Or his passengers.”

  As much as she disliked it, Crys realized he was right. “How do you think we should do it?” she asked. This was his country—his work—she had to trust him. There was nothing else she could do.

  “We won’t know until we can see them. We’ll be in trouble if they’re around the plane. We won’t be able to get inside. And getting close to the injured ellie isn’t going to be easy. The others will be angry.”

  Getting close to an injured elephant? This was insane. It was only yesterday that she’d seen her first one. She was definitely a long way from Minnesota.

  They moved forward at a crawl now, neither speaking, both staring hard into the dark.

  “There!” Bongani pointed over to the left. They could see a number of large shapes moving around. The noise was almost deafening now. The trumpeting was the scariest thing Crys had ever heard. It was indescribable—unlike anything she’d heard before—animal, human or otherwise. Her chest tightened, and she took several deep breaths as she tried to focus.

  “And there’s the plane.” Bongani pointed straight ahead.

  The plane lay about two hundred yards from the milling herd. It was right way up, but even at this distance, they could see it was badly damaged.

  Crys pointed the powerful beam of the spotlight at the elephants. They immediately turned and stared into the light. They were agitated, ears flapping, trunks up in the air, trying to smell whether the vehicle posed a danger. Behind them Crys could see an elephant on the ground, moving, trying to stand, but not able to. If it’d been clipped by the wing, it probably had broken bones. If the prop had hit it, it coul
d be sliced deeply and bleeding. Either way it was in great pain.

  The largest elephant moved toward them. Crys struggled to keep the light steady as Bongani turned the Land Rover in the other direction, in case he had to make a quick getaway. The elephant stopped, lifted its trunk, and sniffed. Then it moved forward again.

  “Let’s get out of here.” Crys whispered as though the elephant could hear her over the noise of the engine. Five tons of elephant coming toward her was more than she could handle.

  Bongani shook his head and put the Land Rover in gear but kept the clutch in.

  Crys glanced at him. She willed him to get them out of there. But he did nothing.

  The elephant stopped again. It was only forty yards away. If it charged, Bongani might not be able to move quickly enough. It sniffed the air again and flapped its ears.

  It was a stand-off, and it lasted for a long, drawn-out moment. Then, the elephant turned and moved back to the group. Bongani exhaled, and Crys realized she’d been holding her breath, too. She gasped in a lungful.

  “How did you know that it wasn’t going to charge?” Crys gasped.

  Bongani shrugged. “I didn’t, but they generally aren’t aggressive unless provoked. It decided we weren’t a threat.”

  Crys swallowed. “Generally aren’t aggressive” seemed pretty poor odds to stake their lives on.

  “How’re we going to get close enough to the injured one?” she asked.

  “Hold the light on it. I’ll take a look.” Bongani grabbed his binoculars from the shelf in front of him.

  Crys did her best to keep the light in place, but it was difficult with the elephants milling around in front of their injured family member. Bongani was looking carefully at the downed creature. “I think the prop hit its back legs. I can see…I can see blood and at least one deep wound.”

  “Do you think it can recover?”

  Bongani shook his head. “I’m not sure. It doesn’t look like it. And I can tell it’s in a lot of pain. We have to put it out of its misery.” He put the binoculars down and looked over at Crys.

  Crys hated the idea but was impressed by Bongani’s commitment to stopping the animal’s suffering. “Okay, but how do we get close enough to make sure you can get a clean shot without the others charging?”