Michael Ridpath - See No Evil

‘Got it!’ said Phyllis. ‘Where are you Alex?’

‘Here!’ Calder shouted.

Phyllis bumped into something and gave a little cry. Then there was a scream of pain as she stepped on Benton. ‘Where?’

‘Here!’ repeated Calder urgently. He held out his hand and felt Phyllis’s. A moment later the pickaxe handle was in his grasp.

‘Stand clear!’ he said. He stepped back and swung. The pickaxe bounced off hard wood. The wall. He could smell smoke. It stung his eyes in the blackness. He saw a flicker of light at the bottom corner of the door. The flames would be in the hut in a moment. He swung again, above and to the right of the flicker. Wood splintered. Another swing. More splinters, the flicker of flames, smoke, a sliver of daylight. Another swing. More daylight now. Smoke tickled his throat. If he coughed it would all be over. He held his breath, aimed for the door lock which he could now see, and swung again.

The lock shattered and the door swung open, letting in a ferocious wall of heat. Flames licked into the hut, running almost instantaneously over the beams and along the roof. Cornelius charged through the flames out into the open. Calder turned and grabbed hold of Phyllis. ‘Go!’ he yelled and pushed her into and through the flames.

He breathed in smoke. Coughed. Bent down, grabbed Benton’s leg. Pulled. Benton yelled and began to scrabble along the floor. God, the bastard was heavy. Calder coughed again. Benton’s screams were smothered in his own spluttering. Calder charged at the flames in the door, keeping his head down, dragging Benton behind him. It was searing hot, he felt his hair ignite, his skin burn and then he was through into the delicious open air.

Cornelius grabbed Benton’s other leg and dragged him out. Benton’s clothes were on fire. Cornelius ripped off his shirt and smothered the flames. Benton gasped for air.

‘Which direction is the airstrip?’ panted Calder.

Phyllis pointed towards the bush.

‘You stay with Benton,’ Calder said to her. ‘Cornelius, you go back to the camp and get some help.’

Cornelius nodded and started along the track. Calder set off into the bush after Zan.

The ground was rough and bumpy, with stones and holes hidden under the yellow grass. It was possible to make a path through the scattered trees, bushes and termite mounds, but Calder soon realized he wasn’t moving in a straight line. He had only gone a few yards, but he could no longer see Benton and Phyllis. He glanced up at the sun and decided he needed to aim just to the right of it. He estimated the airstrip was less than a mile away. Zan ran marathons; it wouldn’t take her long.

It was hard running on that terrain, and his chest was soon rasping for breath. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he caught up with Zan, but he knew that after what she had done to his sister he couldn’t let her get away. He dodged round a thorn bush and caught his sleeve in one of the branches, which pulled him up short. He tugged, but the thorns were barbed and wouldn’t let go. He brushed his left hand on one and it scratched him badly.

He stopped and carefully ripped at his shirt, making sure that he kept the rest of his body away from the bush. It took him a full minute, but eventually he broke free, leaving a strip of cloth attached to the thorns.

He checked the sun for his bearings and saw, right in front of him, an elephant watching him. It was only a baby, about five foot high. It turned and moved rapidly away from him towards some trees twenty yards away.

He didn’t move.

Behind one of the trees was what looked at first like a huge grey wall. There was an explosive trumpeting sound, and a crashing of leaves and snapping wood as the tree was brushed aside and a massive elephant erupted towards him, ears flapping wide. Don’t run, Phyllis had said. Calder planted his feet apart and raised his arms. The elephant kept coming. Calder kept his eyes open and focused on the tusks, which must have been more than six feet long and sharp. The elephant was close, too close, such a heavy beast moving at such a speed couldn’t possibly stop in time.

He closed his eyes. Then opened them. Somehow the elephant had halted. It was only ten yards away, a huge tower of grey muscle. Calder’s arms were still outstretched. He didn’t move. For a moment he looked up and caught the elephant’s eyes. Angry, threatening: don’t mess with my kid.

He lowered his gaze, fearing that he might antagonize her. The calf had trotted to a safe distance behind its mother, together with three other elephants that had stopped and were watching.

It was difficult, but he stood his ground. The elephant continued to stare at him, ears flapping, for a minute, maybe two. Then she turned and moved halfway back towards the calf.

Calder shifted sideways, always facing the animal. The elephant reached up to some branches with her trunk and snapped them angrily. They were thick branches: her strength was extraordinary.

It took him another minute to move into the cover of the nearest trees, and even then he walked slowly backwards for fifty yards or so, listening to the snap of branches, and the occasional angry trumpet.

Behind him an aircraft engine sputtered into life. It was close. He was now what he judged to be a safe distance away from the elephant, so he turned and ran towards the noise. He broke into the clearing to see one of the Piper Warriors lining up on the runway. A small herd of antelope were scattering in front of it, leaping in all directions to confuse this strange predator. As the aircraft began its takeoff roll, Calder sprinted to the small hut near the remaining parked aeroplanes. Sure enough, the door was open, and inside was a metal cupboard, also open. Calder grabbed the two sets of keys and ran over to the Cessna 172. He looked up and saw Zan’s plane clearing the trees to the west, towards the mountains.

He climbed up on to the fuselage and quickly checked the tanks for fuel. He could barely see any, but it was notoriously difficult to assess visually how full a Cessna’s tanks were. He heard the sound of a vehicle and saw a Land Rover speeding towards him, driven by Darren, the ranger, with a bare-chested Cornelius in the passenger seat. Calder started up the engine. Cornelius jumped out of the Land Rover carrying one of the game reserve’s rifles and ran towards the aircraft. Calder opened the passenger door for him and he climbed in.

‘Let’s go,’ he said.

Calder did as many of the take-off checks as he could while taxiing to the threshold of the runway, lined up, and opened the throttle for full power. As the aircraft began its take-off roll, he glanced at the fuel gauges. Half full.

‘How’s Benton?’

‘We got him back to the main lodge. Phyllis is binding up his shoulder, she seems to know her first aid. An ambulance is coming, and the police, but they’ll take a while to get here.’

The wheels left the runway and Calder entered a low climb at full power. Zan had about five minutes on them, which in a Warrior equated to about eight miles. But she would not necessarily be flying at maximum speed. He hoped to be able to catch her before she realized he was on her tail.

As they climbed, he and Cornelius scanned the horizon ahead of them. It was hot in the small cockpit and there was a strong smell of Calder’s burnt hair, mixed with sweat. He opened up all the vents. The sky was mostly clear, with a few white puffy clouds about 6,000 feet up. Calder had been trained to scan the sky for small dots, but it was Cornelius who spotted Zan, about seven miles ahead and 1,000 feet above them. They were gaining on her. She was climbing; in a few minutes she would reach the Drakensberg escarpment.

‘Where’s she going?’ Cornelius asked.