The lions padded across the open ground and sided up to the largest rock. One of them stopped briefly to scratch. They were soon out of sight and did not immerge on the other side.
“You know, bro? If that was our man you saw down there, he’s as good as lion food now.”
“That’s what’s worrying me.”
“Chance a run and fire a few rounds to scare those females off?”
Romo shook his head. “We’ll take it slow, bro. We’ve got the guy’s money,” he said. “Let’s not be too hasty. If they get him, they get him. Maybe he’ll be lucky.”
“Yeah, not good for business though.”
Romo shrugged. He had an inkling that the man was already part of the food chain.
They made their way across the brush, the thorn bushes as tall as they were, some more so, and thick with giant thorns the size of a child’s fingers. The older man looked at the sky. Blue and cloudless. There were vultures circling lazily and rising on the thermals. They were almost overhead. A sign they had spotted carrion. He caught his brother’s eye, nodded skywards. They shared a look. It wasn’t looking good for the man who reckoned he could shoot at six-thousand metres.
The rock gave them a little shade as they neared. They could hear animals feeding. It wasn’t just the sound of meat ripping from bone, it was the sound of hierarchy and dominance. The occasional growl, a snap, a whimper. The sound of dirt being scattered as an animal bolted out of the way of a larger, more dominant animal. The south African bush was a place where a kill brought every carnivore together. The smaller wild dogs usually made it first, then the hyenas, then the leopards and finally the lions. The lions chased everything else away and kept them at bay, until the numbers became too large. But by then, they’d usually eaten their fill.
It hadn’t got that far yet. There were two hyenas circling, and some vultures had perched on nearby rocks, but for now the two lionesses were feeding and the hyenas had tried their luck. One was limping, it’s luck having run out. Both brothers had seen similar beasts become the next meal. This one was favouring a front paw. It would probably make it, so long as it did not show weakness, or bleed too much.
“What the hell was he using as a target?” Vigus asked.
Romo looked down the line of sight, five, maybe even six-thousand metres into the heat haze. The ground was flat, but the curvature of the earth meant he couldn’t see far beyond this. If he could get a hundred feet or so above the ground, he could expect to see double that distance, but the heat haze was heavy. “No idea, bro.” He shouldered the rifle and covered the lions. “Fire a couple of shots. Stick some buck shot into the ass of one of those hyenas. With any luck, it will take off for a few hundred yards before it goes down. Let’s keep the next dinner away from here for a while.”
Vigus fired and the hyena leapt three-feet into the air, screaming and howling. It charged off across the plain, followed by the rest of the pack. It was clearly favouring a hind leg. Vigus fired again, this time just above the feeding lion. The vultures took to the air and one of the lions darted off into the bush. The other lion looked up obstinately, then continued to feed. Vigus opened the breach and both empty shell casings ejected over his shoulder. He reloaded, aimed just in front of the lioness and fired again. Dirt and stones flew up into the creature’s face and she backed away, quickly at first, then slowly and stubbornly. She stepped into the brush and grass and instantly became invisible.
“We haven’t got long, Romo,” Vigus paused, reloaded the left-hand chamber. “That stubborn bitch will be back soon.”
“I hear you, bro,” Romo walked towards the corpse and shook his head. “I still don’t see what this asshole was using as a target…”
But he did. He knew what the man had been using for a target when he saw Dulla’s remains. The post that he had been tethered to had been broken, ripped down as the lions had torn into the corpse. He could see the bullet hole, bigger than his thumb in diameter, in the centre of his chest. He looked back down the veld, a heat haze cutting his view short of five-thousand metres. He did not hear the shot, but he saw a distant flash, and then the sky as he fell onto his back and lay still. He couldn’t feel his legs, couldn’t feel anything. It was as if he had been covered in resin and had set hard. The reasoning part of his brain knew his spin had been shattered, but the emotional part couldn’t accept it and he tried in vain to struggle. Above his own grunts and shallow breathing, he could hear his brother screaming. Urgency and desperation. He thought he could hear his brother shouting his name, the sound of him rushing over to him. Heavy footsteps on the ground, rapidly cut short by a thud, a wet squelch. His brother was still screaming, but now not because of fear or concern, but because of the shock and pain. He heard his brother fall. Five or six clear seconds later he heard a crack and boom and a rumble down the plateau. Another few seconds and the second shot was audible, the shot that had felled his brother. So far away, so long for the sound to catch up. His eyes started to close,
