‘I used to get out into the bush as often as I could when I was a kid. My Father thought I was mad, he still thinks that animals were put on this earth to feed us and other than that are a nuisance. Apart from the flavour, he can’t tell the difference between a Zebra and an Eland.’
‘So you could have been a naturalist, run a game reserve.’
‘Maybe, but I was sent of to school in England and developed other interests. Eventually of course, I realised my true calling was to inform the world of its failings, and became a journalist.’
Graham followed the egret’s flight upstream. White, pure, untainted by man’s arrival. They must have always looked beautiful, always made their nests up in the trees, always eaten frogs and lizards … not much of a diet. A black and white kingfisher arrowed past the boat in the other direction and Graham followed it until his eyes came to rest on two small dots.
‘They’re back, the bloody RAF are coming back.’ He shouted.
Paul followed Graham’s gaze, ‘damn, we’d better leave the river.’ He gave instructions and the dugouts headed for the bank.
‘Can’t we wave hello?’
‘No we can’t wave hello.’
The kids got Paul out of the canoe then hauled him up the bank and through the scrub away from the river, but Graham remained.
The planes flew overhead then one tipped a wing and returned.
He jumped up and down, waving his arms, but somehow his communications became confused. The Hawker Hunter came lower then, at the last moment, opened fire. He threw himself to the ground as shells splattered the surrounding mud.
‘Graham, get out of there!’ Paul shouted.
‘Can’t the stupid fuckers see I’m White?’
‘Obviously not, now get over here!’
‘They can’t go around shooting at people indiscriminately!’
‘Maybe they’ve read your football column. Get out of the open!’
He got up from the ground and brushed down the front of his robe. ‘They’ve gone, you can come out now.’
‘You’ll be glad to know the kids think you’re indestructible,’ Paul said on his return. ‘They think you must be very close to the Prophet to stand up against the flying devils … and Rachel is very proud of you.’
‘Paul, shut up.’
‘Did they miss the boats?’
‘Miraculously, yes.’
They heard distant explosions. ‘Sounds as if they’re having another go at the Camp,’ Graham said.
‘No, it’s further away.’
‘Then maybe they’ve found Ngai’s convoy.’
‘Maybe.’
*****
Late afternoon they reached an abandoned village. The remains of a few mud and stick huts with burnt out reed roofs at the top of a high riverbank. Graham sat in the river for a few moments to cool off, and then helped Benjamin pull his dugout onto a sandbar by the riverbank.
‘What are you doing?’ Paul asked.
‘Just giving a hand. Where is everyone anyway?’
‘You can’t just give a hand old chap, you’re in charge.’
‘If you say so,’ he replied, ignoring him dragging the second dugout up alongside. ‘Do you think they abandoned the place when the fire brigade failed to turn up?’
Paul attempted to climb the riverbank. He failed, coming to a stop after only a few feet, leaning against it and getting his breath back.
‘Up you go,’ Graham said, pushing from behind. ‘Can’t have you hanging about here all night, something will have you for supper.’
The village had been annihilated; some of the huts reduced to charcoal rings.
Graham kicked a few sticks on the ground, stopped, looked, and swept his foot across the ground again. ‘There are bones everywhere.’
‘Probably just the mortal remains of a few goats.’
‘Don’t think so mate.’ He walked over to one of the burnt out huts and picked up a skull. ‘Looks as if we’ve got company for the night, hope it doesn’t upset the kids.’
‘I think that most unlikely, a skull probably means as much to them as a dead flower; still, you seem to be coping.’
‘I’m fine mate … no I’m not, I’m bloody knackered. I never realised how exhausting it was having someone else paddle you along a river, probably had too much sun. I suppose as soon as the light’s gone we should get a fire going.’
‘Best do it whilst you can still see, unless you’re concerned about Ngai seeing the smoke?’
‘No, I’m worried about the Royal Airforce coming down the river and using me for target practise again.’
‘They’ll have finished any patrols by now, there’s no night flying and they have to be back at base an hour before sunset. What’s for dinner?’
‘Today’s menu is millet bread with dried meat and beans, if you can work out how to open the can with a bayonet. Ask the kids to take a look around the village, there might be bananas or something growing here. So how are you?’
‘A little more vertical than I was this morning, thank you.’
‘While I was raiding Ngai’s store, I found you some medicine.’ Graham looked in his sack and pulled out a bottle of Johnny Walker.
‘You think that’s a good idea?’
He passed it over. ‘You remember Doc Willets? He had a double scotch every evening before he brushed his teeth, reckoned it killed off anything unpleasant hanging around his gut.’
‘What did he die of?’
‘Liver failure, but he never caught cholera.’
Paul looked at the label, ‘It’s the bottle I brought with me for Ngai.’
‘Maybe if you’d brought a single malt he would have thought twice about setting you on fire.’
Paul took a slug and passed it over.
‘Bless you mate.’ He closed his eyes in appreciation.
‘I haven’t thanked you for keeping me out of the flames, how did you know he’d go for the confession?’
‘Having everyone around him tell him he’s the best thing to happen since the first Christmas has made him think he is, so giving him the opportunity to spread his benevolent magnificence was bound to appeal. I could write a book about the way his mind works.’
‘Perhaps you should when we get back.’
‘The bloke’s a nutter, I’d need three years studying Freud first, if only to get the terminology right.’
‘The kids are back and appear to have found some bananas. Was your wife as doleful when first you started courting?’
‘We never started courting and she’s not doleful, just brain-dead like the rest.’
‘You think they’ll recover?’
‘Maybe, she’s talked more today than I’ve heard in a month; anyway, it didn’t take me that long.’
‘Your not twelve and with all the training you’ve done at the Stardust, you’re probably more resistant to the drugs.’
‘Mostly chang’aa, about fifty per cent proof with added extras. No idea what they made it from, but it will put Glenfiddich out of business if it ever goes mainstream; probably wreck the opium trade as well.’
‘It’s about time you got that fire started, keep the lions away.’
‘You know how to rub two sticks together?’ Graham asked.
‘Not a clue. I thought you were in the Boy Scouts or some such.’
‘And I thought you might have picked it up from the ancestors.’
‘At home we always had a chap to do that sort of thing.’
Graham rummaged through his impromptu knapsack and pulled out a box of Swan Vesta. ‘Good job I found these then.’
*****
Graham lay on his back, staring up at the Milky Way. Without asking, Rachel had joined him and was curled up asleep with her back against him, occasionally twitching and muttering. The fire had reduced to a few embers, so he carefully moved away and threw on some wood, gleaned from the remains of a hut. Benjamin should have been on the first watch, but he could hear the muted cries of his nightmares from the other side of the f
ire. Nothing had eaten them and the boy must be exhausted so best let him be.
He picked up his rifle and walked a circuit of the fire, twenty yards out. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if their little encampment came under attack, probably make a lot of noise to no effect. He could scare away wild animals, but it probably wouldn’t work against Ngai and his army. Of course, Ngai might even be pleased that they’d survived the attack; on the other hand, he might consider them escaped captives. He went back to Rachel. She was having a nightmare, so he put a hand on her shoulder and gently stroked it until she’d calmed down. He looked away from the fire at the stars, visualising Africa from outer space, and Graham, a small dot, a long way from Manchester. Eventually tiredness overcame him and he lay down, closed his eyes and slept.
*****
He was woken a few hours later by the sound of rummaging from one of the burnt out huts. Unsure whether to investigate or hide, but needing a pee he got up. The moon had risen, bathing the ruined village in its white light, uprights in the remains of hut walls looking like ghostly circles of ribs. He picked up his AK and turning off the safety catch, went in the direction of the noise. A small animal ran off into the bush, not a leopard or a snake, probably as well. Having put the catch back on and relieved himself, he walked to the riverbank and looked down at the beached dugouts twelve feet below. The river looked so peaceful in the moonlight, the flowing water smooth and friendly, but following a loud splash and a few grunts from a hippo on the far side, he retreated to the fire.
Rachel was still calm, but whatever Benjamin was dreaming about wasn’t good; short muffled cries, twitching becoming violent, and then he woke with a cry and sat up. He stared across the fire at Graham and looked quickly around, as if expecting to see demons.
‘It’s all right mate,’ was all Graham could think of.
‘You can’t be nice to him.’
‘What … oh, morning Paul.’
‘It’s not morning; it’s the middle of the night. I thought he was on guard?’
‘Poor kid was knackered so I took over.’
‘You’ve got to stop looking on him as a ten-year-old; he’s a trained killer, a brainwashed and unpredictable fanatic. You have to control him. Don’t say anything, just stare at him as if he’d crapped on your doorstep.’
Paul shouted at the boy. His eyes got wider and he came over and threw himself on the ground in front of Graham.
‘You’ve seen Ngai in action, bless him.’
Graham smiled at the terrified boy and gently put a hand on his head. ‘May the Lords of Maine Road pour their blessings on you.’ He lifted the boy’s chin and gave his best beatific smile. ‘Now go back to sleep and may Les McDowall be at your side.’
‘Les McDowell?’ Paul asked after he’d translated.
‘I thought you’d been educated, Man City’s manager.’
‘At Oxford, we didn’t bother with such trivia.’
‘Ignorance is not something to be proud of, particularly amongst academics. Had any sleep?’
‘Some and I’m feeling better for it. Have you any idea what the time is?’
‘Sometime between sunset and sunrise. I don’t mind keeping watch until dawn; I can always have a kip once we’ve set sail.’
‘‘You know you really should get them to do it. Keep the pecking order intact, yourself as top dog.’
‘They’re kids, they need sleep. Tomorrow, they’ve got twelve hours paddling a dugout, they can’t do that if they’re knackered.’
‘They’ll be all right, this is a holiday compared with what they’re used to. Have you seen the sky?’
‘It’s difficult to miss it without a ceiling getting in the way.’
‘Well look again, towards the horizon.’
‘It’s black.’
‘Precisely, no stars. Keep your eyes away from the fire and keep looking.’
Graham did, and saw a few faint flashes. ‘Lightning? But I can’t hear any thunder.’
‘It’s a long way away.’
‘So what do we do when it arrives?’
‘Get wet, but it probably won’t make it this far, not tonight. Storms tend to hang around on higher ground at first and that one is at least twenty miles away, but it means the long rains are on their way. Should liven up the river.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Storms in the hills end up as flash floods further down. Our placid little river will almost certainly turn into a raging torrent; goodnight.’
Eleven
They rose as the sun started its climb over a sharp horizon. The sky cloudless, the air clear with no trace of the rains foretold by the night’s distant storm.
The sun gathered strength as they continued downstream and, rather than gently warming the morning air, it rose swiftly, a furnace rising from a good night’s rest. Graham half-closed his eyes against the glare as they headed eastwards soon forgetting any intention to help with the paddling. Not because of any aspirations of leadership but early morning lethargy, excusing himself as a stranger to the ways of canoes. He dangled a banana leaf over his head for shade, but the heat, the humidity and the lack of breeze left him sweating. Paul was lying on his back again in the other canoe and ahead, occasional crocodiles continued to slip into the river to avoid them. Their journey progressed as it had ended the previous day.
Benjamin shouted out. A hundred yards ahead the river appeared to be full of large grey boulders; large grey boulders with piggy eyes, big smiles and even bigger teeth, a couple of dozen hippos.
‘Suggestions?’ Graham asked, as Paul lifted himself up onto his elbows to look.
‘I’ve really no idea; the only other river I’ve been on is the Isis. You rarely meet hippos on the Isis.’
‘The engine room doesn’t seem too keen.’
‘I’ll get them to pull up near to the riverbank and we’ll confer.’
… ‘Benjamin says that if they’re in the water, they’re not too much of a problem. Rachel says they kill people and we should turn around.’
‘You’re the naturalist, what do you think?’
‘I’m with Benjamin. As long as there’s an escape route, we should be fine.’
‘What do you suggest, a ladder out the back of the canoe?’
‘Not for us, for them. They’re all to one side next to a beach, we’ll hug the other bank and drift past slowly and smoothly.’
‘Bit difficult, the river’s running twice the speed it was yesterday.’
‘Must be the water from last night’s storms catching up with us. Hopefully they’ll mistake us for a couple of logs brought down further upstream.’
‘I look nothing like a log so drop me off and I’ll catch up with you when you’ve passed them.’
‘Possibly not a good idea; you might not look like a log, but that lot on the riverbank downstream of the hippos do. I don’t suppose they’ll be that keen to let you wander past.’
‘Big buggers aren’t they. So Rachel thinks the hippos will have us for breakfast and you and Benjamin think they’ll leave us be.’
… ‘We’re fairly confident.’
‘Couldn’t you be “extremely confident”?’
‘I’ll go first.’
‘Be my guest.’
Paul gave an order and his canoe pulled away from the bank, catching just enough current to make progress. The hippos appeared unconcerned as they approached, watching but keeping their heads half-submerged.
‘Every time I see a hippo I wonder if they’re wearing pink tutus,’ Graham said. ‘Probably spent too much time skipping school and watching cartoons.’
The hippos continued to study them, and they were now within twenty yards. The nearest lifted its head out of the water and gave a large yawn, showing off its teeth, but seemingly content just to make the point. It’s head splashed back down, causing a wave and gently rocking the canoes. Ahead, the crocodiles had also seen them and were slipping into the water, one after another.
‘Looks as if we’ve
frightened them off.’ Graham said.
‘I’m afraid not, I see ripples heading upstream.’
‘Bollocks, are our bullets armour piercing?’
Paul adjusted his position in the canoe and pointed his rifle forwards. ‘We shouldn’t have a problem, I’ve never heard of a crocodile attacking a canoe. Just keep your hands out of the water and don’t fire if you don’t have to.’
‘You’re kidding mate, if one of those aquatic handbags gets within ten feet of the canoe I’m letting fly.’
The hippos were also reacting to the ripples. Two positioned themselves between the approaching crocodiles and the rest of the herd, threatening with exaggerated yawns and snorts, and causing more waves.
‘How many are there?’ Graham asked.
‘There are a couple of snouts heading towards the hippos but there may be more down below. I’m telling the kids to get the canoes as close to the bank as they can, backs against the wall and all that.’
One of the forward guard suddenly swung its head out of the water from side to side, a terrier shaking a rat in slow motion, a crocodile’s body held in its jaws; twisting, flailing to free itself, but the hippo held on. Another had got past; it shouldn’t have. The herd attacked in an uncoordinated free for all and it was now trying to escape a mess of churning water and angry hippo. Then a young hippo made the mistake of escaping the melee, only to become adrift of the heard.
A crocodile lunged out of the water, and for a few moment appeared to freeze as it tightened it’s grip around the hippos front leg. The young hippo appeared remarkably calm, but others of the herd splashed over. Three other crocodiles had now surfaced and were smoothly making their way towards the battle then broke away and retreated, slipping below the surface and heading towards the canoes.
Paul fired into the water into the water twice in quick succession, then looked furtively at where he’d fired.
‘Missed the bloody thing, how could I have missed it?’
It rose out of the water a few seconds later, behind the canoe and headed back towards it; slowly, focused. Graham screamed out a warning to Benjamin as it launched itself at the canoe, but he’d moved away from the end, too far for the crocodiles lunge and swiped at it’s snout with his paddle. The crocodile swung away and grabbed the end of the canoe with one side of its jaws. The canoe tipped back, but kept afloat as Benjamin joined Paul at the other end to balance it.