more appealing than the scent of live prey.”
“How far out are we going to go?”
“Don’t know yet. Far as it takes I suppose. There’s a village four or so hours east. We should be able to reach there and back at least.”
The conversation was broken by the high-pitched chirp of laughter coming from the grass. William and Thomas glanced at each other and then Thomas darted for his rifle in the jeep. He grabbed it and jumped in front, searching the high grass for any movement.
William took the other rifle and stood up inside the jeep, looking in the opposite direction of Thomas. The deer had sprinted away. Eventually, the plains became silent.
“That sounded close,” William said.
“No more than thirty meters,” Thomas said, squinting as the sight of his rifle swept to and fro. He lowered it and climbed up onto the hood of the jeep for a better look. “Well Will, it seems your worries are unfounded; it’s followed us.”
CHAPTER
38
They drove through the short yellow grass in a large valley. Wild dogs dotted the landscape, their barking occasionally breaking the monotony of the putting engine and the dirt and pebbles crunching underneath the tires. Eric was scooping out a cup of entrails every fifteen minutes now as they were running low.
“We’re almost out,” Eric yelled to Thomas.
Thomas stopped the jeep. He got out and looked around, staring up at the clouds that covered the peaks of distant mountains. “There’s a storm coming. We’ll have to set up camp soon if we can’t make it to the village.”
“What about this?” Eric said, holding up his bloodied cup.
“I’ll take care of that.”
He took his rifle and climbed up onto the hood of the jeep. Getting down on one knee, he tucked the rifle snuggly against him and took aim at a young water buffalo close to them. The air crackled with gunfire and the buffalos stampeded away, the small one limping a few paces and then collapsing.
They decided to set up camp near the kill, underneath a slim, leafless tree. Two tents were set up, one for Thomas and the other for Eric and William to share. Twilight had started to descend and the sky was a prism of orange and purple, as if it were being burned by the dwindling rays of the sun.
William got out a frying pan and began melting butter to cook their meal. Thomas, covered in blood, had cut up the buffalo and filled two coolers to the brim with blood and entrails. He placed some of the prime cuts of meat next to the fire on a cloth and William began cutting it up into bite sized pieces.
“I have to admit,” William said, “I’ve never had water buffalo before.”
“A bit gamey,” Thomas said, “but better than many other meats.”
William cooked the meat with pepper and oil and then put it onto three paper plates. As night came they ate the meat and washed it down with bottles of water, no one speaking. Eric felt tired and nauseated. He’d seen more blood today than ever in his life and it sickened him. He wasn’t sure if he could handle a life out in the plains, killing for a living.
As night fell, Thomas drank whiskey and William smoked a cigar and stared at the flames as they flickered in darkness. Though the herbivores tended to rest, the plains came alive at night with the sounds of insects and the more restless of the predators. Chirping and singing and the occasional roar or holler composing a symphony.
Eric decided he needed a drink and he let himself be tempted. He drank more than he should’ve and soon the world was spinning and his stomach felt like it was on fire. It’d been too long without a drink and he couldn’t judge if he liked it or hated it anymore. He said good night and climbed into his tent, passing out after a few minutes.
Thomas and William sat staring at the fire, neither speaking. They listened to the night and Thomas finished the bottle of whiskey and threw it on the fire. He took out his pipe, stuffed it full of tobacco, and they smoked. “Eric’s a good kid,” William said. “He is.” “What’s his story?” William said. “What do mean?” “Come on Thomas, I’m not an idiot. He told me he can’t go home again, what’d he do?” Thomas took a pull of the pipe and handed it off. “You’ll have to ask him.” William smirked. “Is it the same reason you came out here?”
Thomas gave him a stern look. “I came out here for freedom from the nonsense of city life. That can kill you as surely as any of the predators out in the plains.” “Sandra told me what you did,” William said. “She said you tried to kill someone so you could marry his wife.” Thomas nodded and looked away. “So I did.” “Have you asked for forgiveness?” Thomas laughed. “Forgiveness from who? God? Why? You think he would forgive me?” “You left the church after that I hear. The doors are always open my friend.” Thomas leaned back on his hands. “Not to me.” “Why not?” “I don’t believe it anymore, Will. I can’t.” “Why?” “You think animals are cruel, they’re amateurs compared to us. No merciful God could allow us to be his prime creation.” “You’re wrong,” William said with a mouthful of smoke. “There is evil, but there is good too, Thomas.” Thomas stood up. “I haven’t seen that side of it yet.” He patted William’s shoulder. “Good night Elder, sleep well.”
Eric jumped up in the middle of the night, his heart clinched tight in his chest. There was laughter outside.
He climbed out of the tent into darkness and could see glowing embers; remnants of the fire in front of him. The night was moonless and a wind was blowing hard. He could feel the patter of small droplets of rain against his face and arms. Thomas was already standing outside his tent, his rifle across his chest.
“Go back to sleep Eric,” he said. “I’ll keep watch.”
Eric, still drunk, climbed back into his tent where William was sound asleep. But he was unable even to close his eyes. He took out Jalani’s gun and held it tightly in his palm until morning, listening for any sounds outside. Every once in awhile, he could hear the distant echo of laughter.
CHAPTER
39
Jalani stoked the fire, keeping an eye on the rain clouds moving in. Sandra sat across from her and Douglas was already drunk and lying next to the fire warming himself. Namdi sat on a log sipping tea and watching the ashes drift on the winds and land softly on the dirt before dissipating.
“Tell me something doctor,” Douglas said, “That elder said one of the children claims the animal talked to it. I’ve heard myths that hyenas can imitate human voices. Is it true?”
“I don’t know,” Namdi said. “As a man of science I say no. But there was a time when I was traveling by myself through Tsavo. I stopped at night near a large clearing and made a fire and put up a tent. I was speaking on my cell phone and I answered it saying ‘this is Dr. Said.’ In the night before I went to sleep, I heard a noise in the bush. I came out of the tent and saw the yellow eyes of hyenas in the darkness and heard their laughs. I was getting out my rifle, when I heard a voice say, ‘this is Dr. Said.’”
“Christ,” Douglas said, “what’d you do?”
“I got into my jeep and drove away. But, one is more likely to be frightened when alone. It was probably a growl that I misheard because I was scared.”
They listened to the crash of thunder behind them and could hear the rainfall not more than a few miles away. The air now smelled of wet dirt and had a dampness to it that made breathing a little more difficult. “How do you know Thomas?” Sandra said to Jalani, wanting to change the subject. “We met in Kigali.” “Rwanda?” Douglas
