Tom Knox - The Marks of Cain

David was silenced — by everything — this horrible story, the stirring desolation of the landscape, the extraordinary heat — and the mighty sun. Namibia just seemed to dwarf…everything.

'Uis. We're nearly in Uis.'

The town of Uis, which had appeared to be significant on the map, turned out to be barely a village. A couple of caged liquor stores stood next to three petrol stations. A grey concrete building, apparently a restaurant, advertised Snoek, Meat Pies and Greek Salad. Several iron shacks, a few big houses with big fences, and some huts and bungalows comprised the sunburned residential district.

There were lots of men sitting on their haunches around the petrol stations, staring into the burning emptiness, staring at the Land Rovers. Unpaved roads straggled off into half-hearted woodland. The shadows cast by men and buildings were stark, etched into the dust. Black black black then blazing white.

Hans stopped the car at one of the gas stations; the other Land Rover did the same. David and Amy got out to walk about for a moment, to stretch aching legs, but the heat of the scorching sun was punishing — driving them back towards shelter. Hans looked at the pair of them sceptically as he paid the petrol attendant.

'You guys got hats?'

They both said no.

'Guys! In Namibia there are three rules. Always wear a hat. Take every opportunity to refuel. And never drink whisky with a Baster.' He laughed. 'OK. We're getting near — if your coordinates are right. Maybe another coupla hours.'

The car headed deeper into the thickening bush. David had never experienced this kind of terrain: it made the Pyrenees look like St James's Park. He was glad they were losing themselves in the wilderness: it made them that much harder to follow. If they were being followed. Were they being followed?

'These are the Damara wetlands,' said Hans. 'Underground rivers, coming to the surface. This water is what everyone relies on. We've gotta go straight through.'

It felt contradictory. From scorching desert they were shifting, abruptly, into an emerald paradise of sudden rivers. Waterbirds squawked, toads and frogs croaked. And the car was rocking right down the middle of it all, wheel-arch deep in muddy water. It was like they were tunnelling into Eden.

Reeds cracked against the undercarriage, ducks fled the splashing wheels; more than once it seemed they were going to get stuck in the sucking black mud and would have to be towed free. But, just when the car was about to give up, Hans did some manly manoeuvre with the wheel and the gearstick and they lurched from the sucking swamps — charging back up onto dry land.

David wound the window open. They were on much firmer territory now; lush yet dry. Big orange cliffs stood on either side, they were rumbling down a dusty canyon.

A gazelle, or an antelope, stared quizzically at them from a rock.

'Klipspringer,' said Hans. 'Beautiful things. Always remind me of Russian girl gymnasts…' He checked the GPS coordinates given him by Amy. 'We're nearly there. I hope your woman has given you the right numbers. But I can't see anything. I'd hate it if you guys have come all this way for nothing — '

'There,' said Amy.

David followed her gaze, and her pointing arm. Down a shallow side canyon he saw a group of tents — a largish camp of parked vans, pink tents and people. One of the men stood out, he had bright red hair. He was injecting a black girl in the crook of her arm; she was covered in grease and her breasts were quite bare.

'That must be Nairn.'

The Land Rovers pulled up, David and Amy climbed out and approached the red-haired man — only then did he turn to look at them. He was still drawing blood from the black girl.

'OK. I've nearly finished this bunch.' Angus Nairn's voice was loud, exuberant. He smiled at the visitors, then turned to a colleague and carried on issuing commands. 'Alphonse! Alfie. Stop faffing about or I'll be forced to get von Trotha on yer arse. Ask Donna to get the tables laid. And I want some kudu steak too. Excellent. Splendid. OK. You must be David and Amy? Eloise told me all about you. Give me a sec, we're just finishing up. Alright, laydeez — '

David and Amy stood there feeling spare, and stunned, as the business of the camp continued. David contemplated Nairn as he chattered. Where was Eloise?

Hans came over, rubbing driver's stiffness from his shoulders. As he shook Angus's hand, the Scotsman smiled, quite warily, his green eyes gleaming.

'And you are?'

'Hans Petersen. Offered these guys a lift.'

'Apparently so. Think I know your work with the ellies. Save the desert ellies, right?'

'Yeah.'

'Know the accent…Dorslander? Northern Dutch? Not an original thirstlander?'

Hans smiled at Angus.

'Sorry, no…German Dutch. Otasha.' He made his goodbyes to Amy and David. 'OK. We gotta make the Huab by nightfall. Glad I could be of help.'

Nairn nodded, Hans retreated. The Desert Elephant Land Rovers departed, trailing clouds of orange dust, like cannon smoke drifting over a battlefield. Angus picked up a big steel syringe and beckoned over another tribeswoman. David felt absurd standing here, doing nothing. Where was Eloise? Was Enoka with Miguel?

Miguel and Enoka.

'Mister Nairn. We think we may have been followed. To Namibia.'

The geneticist nodded, pensively. He continued drawing blood as he talked.

'Call me Angus. Followed how?'

'We're not sure. We just think maybe someone was looking for us in Swakop. A friend of Miguel's. Might be wrong.'

Angus sighed.

'Eloise told me about Miguel. Garovillo? Yup. I knew they'd come for us. But we're nearly done anyway. And we're pretty safe out here in the bush.'

'Where is Eloise?'

Angus lifted a hand.

'Wait. Let me finish. Just a few Nama and Damara to go. And the ever delightful Himba.'

David watched as Angus took samples from the last tribespeople. The process of collecting blood was simple, it seemed. The locals queued patiently in the sun, then exposed their black and brown arms for Angus to plunge a shining needle in the soft veiny crook of the elbow. In return for the extracted blood samples, he then offered a brief medical examination, and dispensed medications — antibiotics, analgesics, antimalarials — to his sardonically mystified but apparently grateful customers.

Now he was almost done. One girl remained, her hair and her bare body smeared with a reddish ochre substance — a form of grease, Angus told them, made from dust and butter.

'The topless ones are the Himba — don't know why bras are taboo. OK, that's it, just unfold your arm. Less jouncing would be good.'

The syringe glittered. The glass tube filled with blood, deep crimson blood, rubescent in the fading yet still burning sun. The shadows of the Damara canyon walls were long against the rocks; squawks and chirrs of birds and hyrax trilled through the air. The desert was returning to life after the infernal heat of the day.

'There,' said Angus. 'One more fluid ounce and we're finished.'

He turned and squirted the blood into a sealed glass vial, which he handed to Alphonse, who escorted it away with ceremonial care. Like a newborn being taken to the scales. Angus swabbed the girl's arm with a cotton wool bud. 'Alright love. Thank you very much. Here's some medicine for the kiddo. Do you understand? De Calpol juju?'

The girl smiled, in shy puzzlement, and took the bottle of medicine, then turned and followed her family homeward through the acacias, assimilating with the long dark shadows of the trees.

'Finally!' Angus almost cheered. 'Finito Benito! Now let's have some Tafels and tucker. Guess you're a bit confused, come all this way to see me and you can't see Eloise? All can be explained, but first we drink. And eat!'