'You going to stop then?' Bruce nodded. What a stupid bloody question,
he thought irritably. Then he recognized his irritation as reaction from
the danger they had just experienced, and he spoke to make amends.
'We can't be far now - if we start again at first light we'll reach
Msapa before sun-up.'
'My God, it's cold,' complained Mike and he shivered briefly.
'Either too hot or too cold,' Bruce agreed; he knew that it was also
reaction that was making him garrulous. But he did not attempt to stop
himself. 'That's one of the things about this happy little planet of
ours: nothing is in moderation. Too hot or too cold, either you are
hungry or you've overeaten, you are in love or you hate the world-'
'Like you?' asked Mike.
'Dammit, Mike, you're as bad as a woman. Can't you conduct an objective
discussion without introducing personalities?' Bruce demanded. He could
feel his temper rising to the surface, he was cold and edgy, and he
wanted a smoke.
'Objective theories must have subjective application to prove
their worth,' Mike pointed out. There was just a trace of an amused
smile on his broad ravaged old face.
'Let's forget it then. I don't want to talk personalities,' snapped
Bruce; then immediately went on to do so.
'Humanity sickens me if I think about it too much. De Surrier puking his
heart out with fear, that animal Hendry, you trying to keep off the
liquor, Joan-' He stopped himself abruptly.
'Who is Joan?'
'Do I ask you your business?' Bruce flashed the standard reply to all
personal questions in the mercenary army of
Katanga.
'No. But I'm asking you yours - who is Joan?' All right. I'll tell him.
If he wants to know, I'll tell him.
Anger had made Bruce reckless.
'Joan was the bitch I married.'
'So, that's it then!'
'Yes -
that's it! Now you know. So you can leave me alone.'
'Kids?'
'Two - a boy and a girl.' The anger was gone from Bruce's voice, and the
raw naked pain was back for an instant. Then he rallied and his voice
was neutral once more.
'And none of it matters a damn. As far as I'm concerned the whole human
race - all of it - can go and lose itself. I don't want any part of it.'
'How old are you, Bruce?'
'Leave me alone, damn you!'
'How old are you?'
'I'm thirty.'
'You talk like a teenager.'
'And I feel like an
old, old man.' The amusement was no longer on Mike's face as he asked.
'What did you do before this?'
'I slept and breathed and ate - and got trodden on.'
