failures; perhaps if I had tried harder, perhaps if I had left some of
the cruel things unsaid, perhaps - yes, it might have been, and perhaps
and maybe. But it was not. It was over and finished and now I am alone.
There is no worse condition; no state beyond loneliness. It is the waste
land and the desolation.
Something moved near him in the night, a soft rustle of grass, a
presence felt rather than seen. And Bruce stiffened.
His right hand closed over his rifle. He brought it up slowly, his eyes
straining into the darkness.
The movement again, closer now. A twig popped underfoot. Bruce slowly
trained his rifle round to cover it, pressure on the trigger and his
thumb on the safety. Stupid to have wandered away from the camp; asking
for it, and now he had got it. Baluba tribesmen! He could see the figure
now in the dimness of starlight, stealthily moving across his front. How
many of them, he wondered. If I hit this one, there could be a dozen
others with him. Have to take a chance. One quick
burst and then run for it. A hundred yards to the camp, about an even
chance. The figure was stationary now, standing listening. Bruce could
see the outline of the head - no helmet, can't be one of us. He raised
the rifle and pointed it. Too dark to see the sights, but at that range
he couldn't miss. Bruce drew his breath softly, filling his lungs, ready
to shoot and run.
'Bruce?' Shermaine's voice, frightened, almost a whisper.
He threw up the rifle barrel. God, that was close. He had nearly killed
her.
'Yes, I'm here.' His own voice was scratchy with the shock of
realization.
'Oh, there you are.'
'What the hell are you doing out of the camp?' he demanded furiously as
anger replaced his shock.
'I'm sorry, Bruce, I came to see if you were all right. You were gone
such a long time.'
'Well, get back to the camp, and don't try any more tricks like that.'
There was a long silence, and then she spoke softly, unable to keep the
hurt out of her tone.
'I brought you something to eat. I thought you'd be hungry. I'm sorry if
I did wrong.' She came to him, stooped and placed something on the
ground in front of him. Then she turned and was gone.
'Shermaine.' He wanted her back, but the only reply was the fading
rustle of the grass and then silence. He was alone again.
He picked up the plate of food.
You fool, he thought. You stupid, ignorant, thoughtless fool.
You'll lose her, and you'll have deserved it. You deserve everything
you've had, and more.
You never learn, do you, Curry? You never learn that there is a penalty
for selfishness and for thoughtlessness.
He looked down at the plate in his hands. Bully beef and sliced onion,
bread and cheese.
Yes, I have learned, he answered himself with sudden determination.