“This rain’s lucky. It’ll wash out our tracks. This was the one thing I was praying for. They can’t track us after this storm.”
Gaye clutched his hand. She was still too shocked to speak.
After some ten minutes, the rain began to slacken.
“We must get on,” Garry said, getting to his feet. We’ve got to cross the river.” He turned to Fennel. “Think we could build a raft?”
“I’ve thrown my goddamn tool kit away,” Fennel told him, “How the hell can we build a raft without tools?”
Garry walked to the edge of the river. The opposite bank was thick with high grass and shrubs. Were more crocodiles lurking on the bank, hidden from sight, waiting for them? After what had happened to Ken, he decided the risk was too great to attempt a crossing. He decided to push on down the river in the hope that they would come to a clearing where crocodiles couldn’t conceal themselves.
“Before we go further, let’s eat,” he said, and opening Ken’s rucksack, he produced a can of stewed beef. “We’ll split this between the three of us.”
“I’m not hungry… I don’t want any,” Gaye said listlessly.
“You’ve got to eat!” Garry said sharply. Now, come on.”
“No… leave me alone.”
Garry looked closely at her. Her white drawn face, her eyes that had become sunken, began to worry him.
“Are you all right?”
“I have a headache. The thought of food makes me feel ill… just leave me alone.”
Was it shock? he asked himself. Or was she ill? He flinched at the thought. To fall sick now would be a disaster.
The meal finished, the two men got to their feet. Garry went over to Gaye and touched her lightly on her shoulder. She opened her eyes, and again he felt a pang of alarm at the heavy, dull look in her eyes. She dragged herself to her feet.
“You’re not ill, Gaye?” he asked.
“No.”
“Come on!” Fennel barked. “I want to get going if you don’t!”
Garry walked by Gaye’s side. She moved listlessly and had lost the spring in her step. He took her arm.
“Don’t fuss!” She tried to pull away. “I’m all right. It’s just this awful headache.”
He kept hold of her and walked on, but they weren’t making the speed they had made earlier on.
“Keep moving for God’s sake!” Fennel barked suddenly. “What the hell are you two loitering for?”
Gaye made an effort and quickened her pace. They kept on, but after a couple of kilometres, she again began to lag and Garry found he had to force her on. He was seriously worried now. She seemed to be walking in her sleep, dragging one foot after the other.
“You’re feeling rotten, aren’t you?” he said at last. “What is it?”
“My head feels as if it is going to burst… I suppose it’s the sun.”
“Let’s rest for a moment.”
“No… I’ll manage. Just don’t fuss.”
Another three kilometres brought them to a place Garry was hoping to find. The jungle fell away, either side of the river mud flats with no cover spread out before them.
“This is where we cross,” Garry said. He eyed the swift moving river. “Do you think you can manage, Gaye?”
“Yes, if you keep near me.”
Fennel came to the edge of the bank and surveyed the water suspiciously.
“Are you going first?” he asked Garry.
“Don’t get excited… it’s safe enough and it’s not far across,” Garry said curtly. He led Gaye to some shade. “Sit down. I want to find a branch of a tree to get our stuff over dry.”
She sank down as Garry went off into the jungle.
Fennel eyed her, thinking all the glamour had gone out of her now.
“What the hell’s the matter with you?” he demanded, standing over her.
She put her head in her hands.
“Leave me alone.”
“Are you sick?”
“I have a headache… leave me alone.”
The sunlight reflected on the diamonds of the Borgia ring, making them sparkle. Fennel eyed the ring.
“You better give me the ring to carry. I don’t want it lost. Come on, give it to me!”
“No!”
Garry came out of the jungle dragging a long branch covered with foliage behind him.
Muttering under his breath, Fennel moved away from Gaye.
It took Garry very few minutes to tie the rucksacks and their shoes to the branch.
“Let’s go,” he said to Gaye. “Hang on to the branch. I’ll push it over.”
Uneasily, Fennel watched them enter the water. He looked up and down the opposite bank, expecting to see a crocodile appear, but saw nothing. They were across in a few minutes, and his eyes narrowed when he saw Gaye had collapsed on the mud bank and lay face down. He entered the water and swam fast and in panic to the other side.
Garry had turned Gaye and was kneeling over her, looking anxiously down at her white face. She seemed unconscious. Water streaming from him, Fennel came up.
“What’s the matter?” he demanded roughly.
“She’s ill.” Garry picked up the unconscious girl and carried her across the mud flat into the shade of a tree. He laid her down on a carpet of rotting leaves. “Get the rucksacks and the shoes,” he went on.
Fennel did as he was told, put on his shoes and came back to where Garry was anxiously watching Gaye.
“I guess she’s picked up some bug,” Fennel said indifferently. “Well come on, Edwards, let’s go. Those black bastards may be right behind us.”
“Look around and see if you can find two straight branches. We could make a stretcher with our shirts.”
Fennel stared at him.
“You out of your head? Do you imagine I’m going to help carry that bitch through this goddamn jungle and in this heat when those blacks are racing after us? You carry her if you want to, but I’m not.”
Garry looked up at him, his face hardening.
“Are you saying we should leave her here?”
“Why not? What’s she to us? You’re wasting time. Leave her and get going.”
Garry stood up.
“You go. I’m staying with her. Go on… get out!”
Fennel licked his lips as he stared at Garry.
“I want the compass and the ring,” he said softly.
“You get neither! Get out!”
For a man of his bulk, Fennel could move very quickly. His fist flashed out as he jumped forward, but Garry was expecting just this move. He ducked under the fist and hooked Fennel to the jaw: a crushing punch that flattened Fennel.
“I said get out!” Garry snapped.
Fennel had landed on his back, his arms flung wide. His groping fingers closed on a rock, half-hidden in the grass. He gripped it and with a violent movement, hurled it at Garry. The rock smashed against the side of Garry’s head and he went down as if he had been pole-axed.
His jaw throbbing, Fennel struggled to his feet. He approached Garry cautiously and bent over him. Satisfied that Garry was unconscious, Fennel slipped his fingers into Garry’s shirt pocket and found the compass. He crossed over to where Gaye was lying. Catching hold of her right wrist, he pulled the Borgia ring off her thumb. As he did so, she opened her eyes and seeing his face close to hers, she struck at him with her left hand.
It was such a feeble blow Fennel scarcely felt it. He grinned viciously.
“Good-bye, baby,” he said, bending over her. “I hope you suffer. I’m taking the compass and the ring. You two will never get out of here alive. If you had been nice to me, I would have been nice to you. You asked for it and you’re getting it.” He stood up. “If the Zulus don’t find you, the vultures will. So long, and have a wonderful time while it lasts.”
Gaye closed her eyes. He doubted if she had understood half what he had said, but it gave him a lot of satisfaction to have said it.
He picked up the rucksack containing the last of the food and the water bottle, checked the compass for his bearing, then set off fast into the dark steamy heat of the jungle.