Fever (15 page)

Ben raised another forkful of eggs. “Done in a few weeks, with no delays.”

“Really?” It didn’t seem possible, but they weren’t constructing a three-story multiroom public school in the States either. A twinge of disappointment crept into her consciousness. Had she wanted it to take longer? She searched her motivations for leaving New York. Was she running away from something? An extended absence would’ve almost guaranteed Rikki’s infidelity. Was that what she’d unconsciously hoped would happen? She dismissed the idea. No one wanted their lover to cheat. But she’d never been good at endings. She held on forever or until the other person gave up.

“Trucks.” Ben pointed. “Time for work.”

The vehicles traveled toward them across the savannah like a line of ants weaving and following the scent of food. Sara’s heart swelled with happiness. She was proud to oversee the fruition of her mother’s dream, but the sadness at not being able to share it with her was almost overpowering.

“She would be very proud.” Zak placed her hand on Sara’s shoulder and gave her a comforting squeeze. “You should be as well.”

“Thank you.”

Behind the trucks, Joey and his seven day laborers hung from the openings of his father’s van waving and shouting. Sara breathed a bit easier. She’d been unsure if they would come back after Zak’s erratic behavior yesterday. This project just might get off the ground after all.

Ben referenced the building plans, stepped off the approximate location for the foundation, and poked sticks in the ground to mark the corners. While Zak directed the trucks to a staging area, Sara cleared the breakfast remnants so as not to attract animals. She finished and quickly joined the offloading process, unwilling to miss the physical labor that would make this project literally her own.

As they unloaded the trucks, morning haze gave way to the scorching heat of midday. The men seemed comfortable in their long pants and sleeved shirts, accustomed to the sweltering temperatures. Zak zipped the lower section off her cargo pants and shucked her shirt. Her long, muscular legs and streamlined upper body flexed and extended beneath the shorts and tank top, making Sara glad her rote task didn’t require much concentration. After their near kiss the night before, she’d gone to bed visualizing those strong limbs clamped around her, riding her like one of the wild beasts of Africa. Another wave of heat unrelated to the temperature swept over her, and she averted her gaze from Zak’s body. If she didn’t focus on the school instead of the woman, she’d work herself into a sexual frenzy before lunch.

But something about the way Zak moved and directed the activities around her commanded attention. As they worked, she engaged each man just enough to get a sense of his particular strengths and, armed with that information, assigned tasks. She divided the workmen into two groups, one to help Ben dig the foundation and the other to continue unloading materials. The unloading group finished their job and moved to Ben’s location for orders about construction. When noon approached, Joey helped Sara prepare lunch while the others continued their tasks. Their band of eleven had transformed from a group of strangers into a well-coordinated workforce under Zak’s direction.

Throughout the day, Sara marveled as the school took shape and at the contrast with the world around them. They were building an institution of learning in an environment rich with the very essence of life and death. Their progress was swift in a place where time seemed to almost stand still. As a herd of giraffes sauntered past in the distance, their long necks stretching in a rhythmic cadence, she wondered if she was doing the right thing. Education was valuable and essential for the advancement of a culture, but was it her place to decide when that should occur? Would the school disturb the balance of nature in this area in a destructive or non-beneficial way? She’d had that discussion with her parents so many times and still had no definitive answer. She could only trust the people who had lobbied for the facility and hope her efforts would be helpful.

Sara became lost in the melodic humming of the men as they worked and in the repetitive stacking of cinder blocks one beside the other in time to the rhythm. When she occasionally glanced at Zak, those sky blue eyes stared back at her. What was Zak thinking, her gaze concentrated but quizzical, though her work pace never faltered. She worked more efficiently than the men, each movement a steady progression toward the finish. The exertion of physical labor seemed to energize Zak while her own body slowed as the day wore on. When light started to fade from the sky, Ben spoke to the men in Swahili and walked toward her. “You pay the men now.”

“Now?”

“They get paid daily,” Zak explained as she stopped work and approached her. “It’s not you. They’ve had their pay withheld too many times to trust anyone. Do you have enough cash?”

“It’s not a problem.” She retrieved the money and gave each their agreed-upon payment for the day’s work. “Aren’t you staying for dinner?”

Joey shook his head and waved as they walked toward the van. “Family waits. Tomorrow, miss.
Asante
.”

The three of them waved the others off and turned their attention to the day’s work. Sara was amazed at the double layer of foundation blocks that extended above the top of the ground. She’d been so intent on her own little task that she hadn’t considered the bigger picture. “I can’t believe how much we accomplished today. Thank you.” She turned to Ben and Zak and felt another wave of appreciation threaten to bring her to tears. “Is anyone hungry?”

“Crap. I forgot to check on the boiler.” Zak started toward the rear of the mess hall. “Sara didn’t have warm water this morning. I better figure out the problem or we won’t have any tonight either.”

“Guess that means you and I will be cooking again.” Sara hooked her arm in Ben’s. “Does she do this often?”

“Always,” Ben answered. “Ebony does not cook so good.”

*

Zak examined the huge gash in the side of the water hose leading from the boiler to Sara’s tent. There didn’t appear to be any damage to the unit itself, but the cut was too clean to be made by an animal. She checked the ground surrounding the boiler, but after a breezy day and eleven people walking around the site, chances were slim that she’d find a track. An intruder would’ve found their camp an easy target. One person on night watch couldn’t effectively cover the area. Besides, their efforts were directed at four-legged prowlers, not the more dangerous two-legged variety. She removed the other hoses and coiled them together, leaving only the one for the meal-prep area intact. When she returned, Ben and Sara were serving dinner. They took their plates and huddled by the fire, eating and watching the sun ease toward the horizon.

“When you’re ready for warm water, tell me or Ben. One of the hoses has a hole in it so we’ll have to switch out.” Zak hoped her tone didn’t relay the concern this incident aroused. They’d already had a run-in with the police. If someone was purposely sabotaging their equipment, the stakes had been raised. She thought about her conversation with Captain Stewart and hoped she’d have an idea who the players were soon.

Sara didn’t seem to notice her preoccupation, but Ben gave her a questioning look. She’d fill him in before night watch. Zak picked at her food in silence and replayed the day’s activities. Sara had contributed her share of manual labor like everyone else. It shouldn’t have surprised Zak after her insistence on handling the documentation issue. But the sight of this petite, fair-skinned woman toiling in the African sun alongside nine natives was surreal. She handled herself admirably, resting only when they rested and drinking only when they did.

Sara had easily related to the men as well. She didn’t have the type of perfunctory conversations with them that Zak had to determine their skill levels. Sara talked with them about their lives and what mattered to them. Working her way along the line, she stood shoulder to shoulder with each one and engaged him in a direct, caring manner. The warmth that developed between them was almost tangible. It reminded Zak of conversations she’d had with people before falsity and secrecy became a part of her life. She missed those conversations and envied the ease with which Sara managed them.

As the day progressed, Zak’s respect for Sara rose with each block she set in place. In fact, Sara constantly amazed her, requiring steady revision of the spoiled-rich-girl label Zak had attached to her initially. And every time she’d glanced at her today, Sara was looking at her with those chocolate liquid-center eyes that tugged at her heart and lower parts of her anatomy. The thought of how much she wanted to kiss Sara confused Zak. It wasn’t like she was sexually deprived or in desperate need of physical release. Her strong pull toward this woman made no sense.

A loud screeching noise sounded next to her and Zak startled from her memories. A small black-faced monkey crouched near her chair, eyeing her untouched dinner and protesting her hoarding. She set the plate on the ground and watched the creature devour the food while Sara and Ben cleaned up.

“You know better,” Ben growled. “Now the whole family comes.”

“She’s just a softy,” Sara added as they washed dishes and flicked water at each other like frisky siblings.

“I’m going to take a splash in the river while you kids play. It’s probably warmer than the boiler anyway.” Zak found a section of the bank surrounded by whistling acacia trees with a clear stretch of water, took off her shorts, and waded in wearing only her sports bra and boy-cut undies. The water felt nearly hot against her skin, but it sliced away the day’s dust and sweat as she ducked under the surface quietly and quickly.

Her time was limited. A large crocodile that rested on the opposite bank waiting for dusk and feeding time would not tolerate her long. He’d want to investigate the fuss and taste the intruder that dared to invade his space. Crocs were known for their stealthy attacks and, when on the move, their lunging strikes. She took a final dip just under the water’s surface and started backing out of the river just as the croc stirred.

“Hey, thought I’d join you for a sunset swim.” Sara was about to step into the edge of the water as Zak neared the bank.

“No!” She looked toward the opposite side of the river but the croc was already mobile. “Get out, now.”

Sara stood ankle deep in the water staring at her like she’d lost her mind. “Why?”

Zak grabbed her around the waist and struggled up the bank. Sara’s feet had barely cleared the water when the crocodile lunged at them, his jaws slamming with a ferocious snap. Zak fell backward into the acacia bushes at the crest of the hill with Sara on top of her. As she landed, Zak heard a gunshot and Ben yelling at the croc in Swahili.

Stabbing physical pains down her backside alternated with a sexual ache every time Sara moved. Her thigh pressed into Zak’s crotch and sent shivers through her. The cleavage of Sara’s soft breasts cupped her chin and made breathing difficult. She wasn’t sure which was more excruciating, the injury or the desire.

“Croc is gone,” Ben assured them. “Everybody okay?”

“Croc? What croc?” Sara’s eyes were huge as she stared at Zak for an answer. “What just happened?” She tried to get up and Zak grunted in pain. “Are you all right?”

“Not really.”

Ben helped Sara to her feet. “Big croc in the river. Feeding time now.”

“You mean I was almost dinner for a crocodile? I didn’t even see him.”

“Ebony saved you.” Ben smiled broadly. “Now you help her.”

She looked at Zak, her gaze taking in the nest of spiky bushes that surrounded her. “I am so sorry, but thank you for rescuing me.”

Zak examined the situation, her body surrounded by needle-like protrusions, and realized that her skimpy undies and bra were almost transparent after her dip in the river. Her nipples were rigid, the black triangle between her legs pronounced. Sara’s gaze wandered over her body again, taking in the obvious exposure and her precarious predicament.

“Can you get up?”

Zak was reluctant to move, knowing that as soon as she rose some of the thorns in her back would come out. “I can, but I’m not sure I want to. That’s going to hurt worse.”

Ben looked back toward the river, affording her the respect of not gawking at her revealing attire. “Acacia thorns very sharp, very painful,” he said. “I get medicines.”

Sara offered her hand and Zak slowly rose from her prickly bed. As she straightened, the fabric of her sports bra and undies tugged and irritated the impaled objects in her skin. Some of the stickers had come out and blood trickled down her back. She gritted her teeth to keep from crying out.

“My God, you’re bleeding.” Sara started to touch her but Zak raised her hands in defense. “Like it or not, you’ll need some help getting those things out of your backside. You look like you did battle with a porcupine and lost.”

“Ben can—”

“Ben most certainly cannot. It wouldn’t be fair to put him in that position. I’ll take care of you. Get over yourself and get in here.”

Sara held her tent flap open so Zak could walk inside without bending. “Lie down on my sleeping bag.” She lit the lanterns and placed them on the floor near the bedroll. When Ben brought the first-aid kit and her rucksack, Zak heard a whispered exchange between the two but couldn’t make out what they were saying.

“Do you need something for pain?”

“No, just do it. Take them out quickly. It’ll hurt less.” Zak clenched her teeth each time Sara plucked one of the embedded thorns from her flesh. One by one she picked them out of her shoulders, her back, her buttocks and legs. Zak’s discomfort alternated between pain from the stickers and pleasure from Sara’s hands as they rested gently on her body while she worked. It seemed to take hours for her to complete the extraction.