protection was darkness. In the darkness she would have the advantage,
for she was accustomed to it.
She had heard the nightjar and the owl calling so she knew that night
had fallen, and it was probable that the raincloud still blanketed moon
and stars. Darkness was out there in the forest. She must get out of
the house, and try to reach the servants quarters.
She hurried through the rooms towards the rear of the house, and as she
went she thought of a weapon. The firearms were locked in the steel
cabinet in David's office, and the key was with him. She ran through to
the kitchen and her heavy walking-stick was in its place by the door.
She grasped it thankfully and slipped open the door catch.
At that moment she heard the front door crash open, with the lock kicked
in, and she heard Akkers charge heavily into the living-room. She
closed the kitchen door behind her and started across the yard. She
tried not to run, she counted her steps. She must not lose her way. She
must find the track around the kopje to the servants hutments.
Her first landmark was the gate in the fence that ringed the homestead.
Before she reached it she heard the electricity generator throb to life
in the power house beyond the garages. Akkers had found a light switch.
She was slightly off in her direction and she ran into the barbed-wire
fence. Frantically she began to feel her way along it, trying for the
gate. Above her head she heard the buzz and crackle of the element in
one of the arc lamps that lined the fence and could flood the gardens
with light.
Akkers must have found the switch beside the kitchen door, and Debra
realized that she must be bathed in the light of the arcs.
She heard him shout behind her, and knew that he had seen her. At that
moment she found the gate, and with a sob of relief she tore it open and
began to run.
She must get out of the light of the arcs, she must find the darkness.
Light was mortal danger, darkness was sanctuary.
The track forked, left to the pools, right to the hutments. She took
the right-hand path and ran along it.
Behind her she heard the gate clank shut. He was after her.
She counted as she ran, five hundred paces to the rock on the left side
of the path that marked the next fork.
She tripped over it, falling heavily and barking her shins.
She rolled to her knees, and she had lost the walkingstick. She could
not waste precious seconds in searching for it. She groped for the path
and ran on.
Fifty paces and she knew she was on the wrong fork.
This path lead down to the pumphouse, and she was not familiar with it.
It was not one of her regular routes.
She missed a turn and ran into broken ground. She stumbled on until
rank grass wrapped about her ankles and brought her down again, falling
heavily on her side so that she was winded.
She was completely lost, but she knew she was out of the arc lights now.
With luck she was shielded by complete darkness, but her heart was
racing and she felt nauseous with terror.
She tried to control her gulping, sobbing breath, and to listen.
