chest to chest the two of them spun around in a macabre waltz, trying to
throw each other, wrestling for the advantage, until they tripped and
went over backwards into the river.
They came to the surface still grappling and rolling over each other,
first one on top and then the other, a fearful parody of the lovemaking
which Boris had watched a few minutes earlier. Punching and straining
and tripping each other, they struggled in the shallows. But every time
they fell back into the water the slope of the bank beneath their feet
forced them further out, until, when they were waist-deep, the main
current of the Nile suddenly picked them up and swept them away
downstream. They were still locked together, their heads bobbing in the
tumble of waters, their arms thrashing the water white around them,
bellowing at each other in primeval rage.
Tessay heard the men that Mek had called coming down through the scrub
at the run. She snatched up her shamnw and pulled it over her head as
she ran to meet them. As the first of them burst on to the gravel bar
with his AK cocked, she shouted to him in Amharic.
'There! Mek is in the water. He is fighting the Russian.
Help him!' She ran with them along the bank. As they drew level with the
two men in midstream one of the men stopped and levelled his AK, but
Tessay rushed at him and struck up the barrel.
'You fool!' she shouted angrily. 'You will hit Mek.' Jumping to the top
of one of the riverside boulders, she shaded her eyes against the
dazzling reflection of the low sun off the water. With a sick feeling in
the pit of her stomach she saw that Boris had managed to get behind Mek
and had a half nelson hold around his throat. He was forcing Mek's head
under the surface. Mek was struggling like a hooked salmon in his grip
as they were swept into a long chute of white water.
Tessay jumped down from the rock and ran on down the bank to the next
point, from which she could only watch helplessly.
Boris was still holding Mek's head under water as they were home
together into the head of the chute. Fangs of black rock flashed by them
on each side as they gathered speed. Mek was a powerful man and Boris
had to exert every last ounce of his own strength to hold him, and he
knew he could not do so much longer. Suddenly Mek reared back, and for a
moment his head came out. He sucked a quick breath of air before Boris
could force him under again, but that breath seemed to have renewed his
strength.
Desperately Boris looked ahead to the tail of the chute as they sped
towards it. There were more rocks there. Boris picked out one great
black slab over which the waters poured in a standing wave three feet
high. He steered for it, kicking and hauling Mek's body around with the
last of his strength.
They flew down the slope of racing water with the rock slab waiting for
them at the end like a lurking seamonster. Boris continued to wrestle
with Mek, until he had turned him into a position ahead of him. He
planned to steer him into a head-on collision with the rock and use
Mek's body to cushion his own impact.
At the very last moment before they struck Mek dragged his head out from
