Growling like an animal, he smashed the fist of his good hand against
the wall, enjoying the pain of it in his frustration, and his anger and
his hatred was so strong that it shook his body like a fever, and he
cried out aloud, a formless animal cry without coherence or sense.
Suddenly the rain stopped. The heavy drum of it upon the iron roof of
the hangar ceased so abruptly that Akkers was distracted. He went to
the opening and looked out.
The stars were swimming mistily above him, and the only sound was the
gurgle and chuckle of running water and the dripping of the trees.
There was the glimmering of light now, and he saw the white walls of the
homestead shine amongst the trees. He could do damage there, Akkers
realized. He could find there some outlet for his terrible frustration.
There was furniture to smash, and the thatch would burn, if lit from
inside, the thatch would burn even in this weather.
He stared towards the homestead through the dark sodden trees.
Debra woke in the silence. She had fallen asleep in the midst of the
storm, perhaps as a form of escape.
Now she groped for the warm comforting body of the dog but he was gone.
There was a patch of warmth on the bed beside her where he had lain.
She listened intently and there was nothing but the soft sounds of water
in the guttering and far-off the growl of thunder. She remembered her
earlier panic and she was ashamed.
She stood up from the bed and she was shivering with the cold in her
loose, free-flowing dark blue maternity blouse, and the elastic-fronted
slacks that were adjustable to her expanding waistline. She felt with
her toes and found the light ballet pumps on the stone floor and pushed
her feet into them.
She started towards her dressing-room for a sweater, then she would make
herself a cup of hot soup, she decided.
Zulu started barking. He was outside in the front garden. Clearly he
had left the house through the small hinged doorway that David had built
especially for him in the veranda wall.
The dog had many barks, each with a different meaning which Debra
understood.
A self-effacing woof, that was the equivalent of the watch-man's Ten
o'clock on a June night, and all's well. Or a longer-drawn-out yowl,
that meant, There is a full moon out tonight, and the wolf's blood in my
veins will not allow me to sleep.
A sharper, meaningful bark, Something is moving down near the pump
house. It may be a lion. And then there was an urgent clamouring
chorus, There is dire danger threatening. Beware!
Beware! It was the danger bark now, and then growling through closed
jaws as though he were worrying something.
Debra went out on to the veranda and she felt the puddled rainwater
soaking through her light shoes. Zulu was harrying something in the
front garden, she could hear the growling and scuffling, the movement of
bodies locked in a struggle. She stood silently, uncertain of what to
do, knowing only that she could not go out to Zulu. She was blind and
helpless against the unknown adversary. As she hesitated she heard
clearly the sound of a heavy blow. it cracked on bone, and she heard
