Fever (30 page)

She stared into the fire until it was almost extinguished, trying to reconcile this information with what she’d believed. She added more wood and stomped around the perimeter of the camp in a mindless security sweep. Disbelief and confusion swirled in her head until she was running the exterior of the barricade at a trot. Perhaps if she ran far and fast enough, the words wouldn’t fully register. Maybe if she just kept going the lies would be swallowed up by her mood and the deep African night. Heat and exhaustion finally persuaded her to sit and read the other two reports. Maybe the first one got it wrong and the others would clarify the events and make everything right again. Without Wachira’s culpability she couldn’t hold onto the feelings that had sustained and driven her.

But the other two accounts were identical, including interviews with the young officer and his deep remorse about the incident. She reread all the documents, looking for gaps or inconsistencies in the facts, but found none. This wasn’t possible. She’d believed another version of the story for years. First thing tomorrow she would call Stewart and check her facts. She had dedicated so much of her life to making Titus Wachira pay for her father’s death. Now it seemed he wasn’t responsible, at least not directly. What would she do with that information? How could she disengage the fury and vengeance that coursed through her veins like a virulent contagion?

Zak tossed the reports onto the fire, watching them disintegrate into a cloud of ash. She started toward the acacia-thorn fence to make another round when she heard it, a low, guttural rumble from the shadows just beyond the firelight’s reach. She recognized the sound from many years of bush hunting with Ben and the others of his tribe, the wounded growl of a lion.

Clutching the staff in her right hand, she pounded the ground as she strode toward the sound. Eyes glowed like lighted candles and fixed on her from a clump of dry elephant grass. She was about to rush the lion, yelling and flapping her arms as distraction, when Ben came alongside her, a rifle in one hand and a fire stick in the other.

“We must lure him from the tents.” They sidestepped into position as they’d done many times while hunting, arm’s length apart and advancing. Ben waved the fiery bush wand in front of the lion as they began a methodical dance away from their site. Slowly the illumination from the camp fire dimmed and disappeared into the dusty light of dawn behind them. They led the restless lion farther westward into the murky savannah. The animal seemed anxious as they herded him back into the darkness. His growls of pain and discontent increased along with lunges at his tormenters.

Sara awoke to the sound of a lion’s powerful roar, gunfire, and an ensuing silence so deep it felt ominous. She dressed as she stumbled to the tent opening and flung it back. A quick scan of the outside confirmed that something was definitely wrong. The fire, which usually burned all night and into the morning, was completely cold. Both vehicles were parked in their usual spots, although one had been moved from the position it was in when she went to bed. There was no sign of Zak or Ben. She was never left unattended, even for short periods.

She ran to the trucks and checked inside—nothing. Tiny hairs at the nape of her neck stood on end. Grabbing a pointed stick from the ground as if it could protect her from the growing discomfort, she turned 360 degrees and scanned the plains as far as she could see in the dim morning light. Still nothing. She headed back to the mess hall calling for Zak and Ben, with no response. A quick look in the tent verified that she was truly and frighteningly alone.

What could have happened while she slept? It was possible that Zak and Ben were hunting, reminiscing about childhood adventures. Maybe they’d taken a morning stroll and lost track of time. Perhaps Wachira’s men had returned and arrested them, leaving Sara to fend for herself. As the possibilities quickly came to her, she dismissed each one as unlikely. It was not like Ben and Zak to deviate from their established pattern of behavior for recreational purposes, especially when they were responsible for her safety. And a visit from the police would have raised enough confusion and resistance to awaken her. So where were they?

Sara’s skin grew clammy as panic rose in her chest. She reached for her cell phone, thinking she should probably call the police, but didn’t have a number. Did they use 911? How about Imani? Maybe she’d have a suggestion. Again, no way to contact her. Randall Burke came to mind, but he was thousands of miles away. As panic started to give way to full-blown fear, she remembered that she had Zak’s cell number programmed into her phone. She started to dial but stopped as a noise in the distance captured her attention.

Heavy pounding. Slow, even strokes. Drumming, possibly. No, it sounded more like labored steps or the hard footfalls of an animal in distress. She turned in the direction of the sounds and strained to hear more clearly. Not a four-footed gallop, only two. A person. Zak and Ben. She ran toward the methodical thumping, hoping her instincts were right. She’d traveled only a few hundred feet when she saw them emerging from the gray night sky to the west. The sight stopped her, fear bunching in her muscles like a storm cloud. Ben ran like a burdened but very determined pack animal. Across his shoulders Zak was draped like a heavy blanket, her limbs swinging limply, her midsection wrapped in Ben’s colorful shuka. Ben’s bare chest and legs were shiny with dark, wet liquid—blood. It seemed to flow from around his neck—from somewhere on Zak’s body. Sara’s knees almost buckled but she forced herself to keep moving. “Ben, let me help.”

“No,” he panted heavily, “can’t stop. Make bed. Hurry.”

Zak looked helpless and pale flung across Ben’s back, and Sara didn’t want to leave her. But he could get Zak to camp, and maybe by then she’d be together enough to render some real assistance. How, she wasn’t quite sure. She ran ahead and threw a sleeping bag and blankets on top of the picnic bench that served as a dining table inside the mess tent. Emptying four bottles of water into a pot, she set it on the stove and started the gas burner. She put unsoiled towels and the first-aid kit on the table just as they arrived.

Ben eased Zak onto the table on her back with the tenderness of a loved one. The multicolored fabric bound tightly around her waist was soaked with blood. “What happened, Ben?”

“Lion.”

“She’s bleeding so much. Is that why she’s unconscious?” The sickly metallic odor of blood was overpowering and Sara suppressed an urge to gag.

“Hit her head. Ebony will wake.” He spoke as if it were a statement of fact.

“Shouldn’t we try to stop the bleeding?” Sara felt helpless as Zak lay so still, her body slowly draining of color and life.

“I called Imani. Told her to come quick. She is a nurse. We leave the cloth on until she comes. It stops some of the bleeding.”

“How could this happen?” She looked at Ben, desperate for answers but not really expecting any. “Didn’t either of you have a gun?” This was one time when violence seemed completely justified. The thought was sobering. Zak had been injured by a wild animal, not another person with evil intentions. Suddenly the idea of doing bodily harm to someone who hurt a loved one didn’t seem so far-fetched.

“Ebony would only let me scare it away.” Ben opened the first-aid kit and looked from Zak to the items inside. He seemed confused about what to do next. The rattle of an approaching vehicle drew their attention to a stream of dust moving toward the camp. “Imani.” The relief on his face was obvious.

A few minutes later Imani was at Zak’s side with a knapsack full of medical supplies. She took one look at Zak and spoke to Ben in Swahili in a tone laced with irritation. They would probably both be distraught if it hadn’t been for Imani’s professional training. Fortunately, she shifted into automatic pilot and started assessing the injuries.

“How long has she been unconscious?” she asked while checking Zak’s pupils with a small penlight.

“Ten, fifteen minutes maybe,” Ben answered. In response to another scathing look from his sister, he continued. “I carried her from the bush.” His answer seemed to satisfy her.

Imani felt Zak’s head and checked for external trauma. “No blood from the head. This is good.” She unwound the garment from Zak’s waist and Sara gasped. Her T-shirt was ripped on both sides and plastered to her body. At Imani’s nod, Ben pulled his knife from its sheath, sliced the shirt up the middle, and peeled it away from her injuries. Two distinct sets of claw marks raked Zak’s sides along her rib cage just below her breasts. Torn skin hung loose and revealed irritated red flesh underneath. Imani swabbed the wounds with an antiseptic that elicited a low moan from Zak. “No damage to the muscle. This is also good,” Imani announced.

The stingy antiseptic smell, blood-soaked materials, and Imani’s skilled hands transformed the natural African environment into a third-world triage center. Sara tried to detach from the fact that Imani was treating Zak but couldn’t. The clean gashes were even more frightening, deeper toward her back and tapering at the front as if she’d been clawed while pulling away. Sara’s eyes stung with tears. No human body should be exposed to such trauma, especially not this one, not the smooth, alabaster skin of the woman she loved. Sara grabbed her stomach as it lurched in objection to the sight.

“Sara, would you wait outside?” Imani asked. She continued to flush the wounds and Zak stirred with obvious discomfort. “The suturing will take a while.”

“I’d rather be with her. Maybe I can help.” She didn’t want to leave Zak’s side for an instant, afraid she’d wake up but more terrified she might not. What if the time they’d spent together was all they had? The thought sent shivers down her spine and she clung to the table for support.

“You look pale. I cannot handle two patients at once. Please.”

Sara touched Zak’s moist forehead. “Call me the minute she wakes up.” When she turned to leave, Imani was aiming a syringe at Zak’s side. She flinched and stepped outside into the cool morning air. Pacing back and forth, Sara felt the minutes crawl in direct opposition to her wishes. She wanted Zak awake, healthy, and in her arms, but none of that would happen soon, if at all. Their conversation yesterday about Zak’s job seemed inconsequential. She’d gladly make a deal with any devil to have her safe and unharmed again. Even sharing a life of secrets and absence was more appealing than a life without Zak.

Morning turned to midmorning and early afternoon before Imani and Ben emerged from the canvas hut turned emergency room. “How is she? Is she awake?”

Imani looked exhausted and slouched into a chair beside the fire pit. “She woke briefly. I had to sedate her to finish the suturing. She did not like it.”

“What do you mean? Doesn’t she need the pain medicine?” Sara wanted to make sense of what she was being told but it wasn’t registering.

“She has a head injury and should stay awake. I can not tell the extent of any damage if she remains medicated. She knows this and resists the drugs which make her sleep. She will be in much pain. Perhaps you can talk to her when she wakes.”

Sara started toward the tent but heard Imani ask Ben, “Tell me what happened.” She stood by the entrance and waited for the answer.

“Ebony was on watch. The lion came toward camp. He was dazed, injured on his side from a spear or prod. We herded him back toward the reserve, following his blood trail until we lost it in the rocks. We found pieces of fresh meat along the way. Ebony used one to lure the lion but he lunged. She dodged but he struck her. If not for his injury, she would be—” Ben hung his head and dropped into a chair beside his sister.

“You had a rifle,” Imani accused.

“She would not let me kill him.”

Sara’s heart ached for Ben. He had to watch his friend being mauled by a lion and blamed himself for not doing more. She walked into the tent and stood beside Zak. Her body was wrapped in gauze dressing from just below her breasts to her waistline. The pallor of her skin, the result of too much blood loss, matched the stark white bandages. She took Zak’s hand and raised it to her lips. “Why do you have to be such a damn hero?”

“My job.”

Zak’s answer sounded dry and brittle as it swished softly across parched lips.

“You’re awake. Oh, my God, how do you feel? Don’t talk. I’m so glad to see you—” She almost said
alive
. Zak’s normally blue-gray eyes were the color of old cement, and in their depths she saw only pain and fatigue. She looked around as if trying to decide where she was and how she got here. Ben and Imani rushed in and hovered at her side like concerned parents.

“Do not talk or move,” Imani ordered. “You need to go to hospital for fluids and observation for the head injury.”

Zak shook her head vigorously but stopped as her chest heaved. “No hospital.”

“I can not give you an IV, and you need fluids. You lost a lot of blood. This is why you feel nauseous and dehydrated. Let us take you, Ebony.”

“No. Water and rest. For a while.”

Ben looked at Zak with wide eyes. “No, Ebony. You cannot go after him again. It is too dangerous. Even injured, he is stronger. We must wait for help.”

“What are you talking about?” Sara wanted to know.

“She is thinking of going after the lion, trying to find out why he left the reserve.”

“Absolutely not!” Sara stared at Zak, unable to believe she was considering such an insane idea. “You were almost killed. You’ll rest even if I have to knock you out myself.”